After the end of the Vienna Council, Emperor Alexander Pavlovich decides to “travel around Europe and see wonders in different states.” The Don Cossack Platov, who is with him, is not surprised at the “curiosities”, because he knows: in Russia “his own is no worse.”
In the very last cabinet of curiosities, among the “nymphosoria” collected from all over the world, the sovereign buys a flea, which, although small, can “danse” dance. Soon Alexander “got melancholy from military affairs,” and he returned to his homeland, where he died. Nikolai Pavlovich, who ascended the throne, values the flea, but, since he does not like to give in to foreigners, he sends Platov along with the flea to the Tula masters. Three Tula residents volunteer to support Platov “and with him all of Russia.” They go to venerate the icon of St. Nicholas, and then lock themselves in the house of the slanting Lefty, but even after finishing the work, they refuse to give Platov the “secret”, and he has to take Lefty to St. Petersburg.
Nikolai Pavlovich and his daughter Alexandra Timofeevna discover that the “abdominal machine” in the flea does not work. An angry Platov executes and scolds Lefty, but he does not admit to the damage and advises him to look at the flea through the most powerful “small scope”. But the attempt turns out to be unsuccessful, and Lefty orders “to put just one leg under a microscope in detail.” Having done this, the sovereign sees that the flea is “shod on horseshoes.” And Lefty adds that with a better “small scope” one could see that on every horseshoe the “master’s name” is displayed. And he himself forged carnations that were impossible to see.
Platov asks Levsha for forgiveness. The left-hander is washed in the “Tulyanovskie Baths”, shaved and “shaped”, as if he had some kind of “common rank”, and sent to take the flea as a gift to the British. On the road, Lefty eats nothing, “supporting” himself with wine alone, and sings Russian songs throughout Europe. When questioned by the British, he admits: “We have not gone deep into the sciences, and therefore the flea no longer dances, only those who are faithful to their fatherland.” Lefty refuses to stay in England, citing his parents and the Russian faith, which is “the most correct.” The English cannot seduce him with anything, then with an offer to marry, which Lefty rejects and speaks disapprovingly of the clothes and thinness of English women. In English factories, Lefty notices that the workers are well-fed, but most of all he is interested in the condition of the old guns.
Soon Lefty begins to feel sad and, despite the approaching storm, boards the ship and without looking away looks towards Russia. The ship goes out into the “Terraline Sea”, and Lefty makes a bet with the skipper who will outdrink whom. They drink until the Riga Dynaminde, and when the captain locks the disputants, they already see devils in the sea. In St. Petersburg, the Englishman is sent to the embassy house, and Lefty is sent to the quarter, where they demand his document, take away his gifts, and then take him in an open sleigh to the hospital, where “everyone of an unknown class is accepted to die.” The next day, the “Aglitsky” half-skipper swallows the “cutta-percha” pill and, after a short search, finds his Russian “comrade”. Lefty wants to say two words to the sovereign, and the Englishman goes to “Count Kleinmichel,” but the half-speaker doesn’t like his words about Lefty: “even though Ovechkin’s fur coat is a man’s soul.” The Englishman is sent to the Cossack Platov, who “has simple feelings.” But Platov finished his service, received “full population” and sent him to “Commandant Skobelev.” He sends a doctor from the clergy of Martyn-Solsky to Leftsha, but Leftsha is already “ending”, asks to tell the sovereign that the British don’t clean their guns with bricks, otherwise they are not suitable for shooting, and “with this fidelity” he crosses himself and dies. The doctor reports Lefty’s last words to Count Chernyshev, but he does not listen to Martyn-Solsky, because “in Russia there are generals for this,” and the guns continue to be cleaned with bricks. And if the emperor had heard the words of Lefty, then the Crimean War would have ended differently
Now these are “things of bygone days,” but the legend cannot be forgotten, despite the “epic character” of the hero and the “fabulous character” of the legend. The name of Lefty, like many other geniuses, has been lost, but the folk myth about him accurately conveyed the spirit of the era. And although the machines do not condone “aristocratic prowess,” the workers themselves remember the past and their epic with a “human soul,” with pride and love.
CHAPTER ONE
When Emperor Alexander Pavlovich graduated from the Vienna Council,
then he wanted to travel around Europe and see different wonderlands. He traveled to all countries and everywhere, through his affectionateness, he always had the most internecine conversations with all sorts of people, and everyone surprised him with something and wanted to bend him to their side, but with him was the Don Cossack Platov, who did not like this inclination and, missing his the household, kept beckoning the sovereign home. And as soon as Platov notices that the sovereign is very interested in something foreign, then all the escorts are silent, and Platov will now say: “So and so, and we have our own at home, no worse,” and will take him away with something.
The British knew this and, upon the arrival of the sovereign, they came up with various tricks in order to captivate him with his foreignness and distract him from the Russians, and in many cases they achieved this, especially in large meetings where Platov could not fully speak French; but he was little interested in this, because he was a married man and considered all French conversations to be trifles that were not worth imagining. And when the British began to invite the sovereign to all their prisons, weapons factories and soap-saw factories, in order to show their advantage over us in all things and to be famous for it, Platov said to himself:
Well, it's a sabbath here. Until now I have endured, but I can’t go on. Whether I can speak or not, I won’t betray my people.
And as soon as he said this word to himself, the sovereign said to him:
So and so, tomorrow you and I are going to look at their weapons cabinet. “There,” he says, “there are such natures of perfection that once you look at them, you will no longer argue that we Russians are no good with our meaning.”
Platov did not answer the sovereign, he just lowered his hornbeam nose into a shaggy cloak, but came to his apartment, ordered the orderly to bring a flask of Caucasian vodka-kislyarka from the cellar, shook a good glass, prayed to God on the road fold, covered himself with the cloak and snored so that In the entire English house, no one was allowed to sleep.
I thought: morning is wiser than night.
CHAPTER TWO
The next day the sovereign and Platov went to the Kunstkamera. The Emperor did not take any more Russians with him, because they were given a two-seater carriage.
They arrive at a very large building - the entrance is indescribable, the corridors are endless, and the rooms are one after the other, and, finally, in the main hall there are various huge busts, and in the middle under the Canopy stands Abolon of Polveder.
The Emperor looks back at Platov: is he very surprised and what is he looking at; and he walks with his eyes downcast, as if he sees nothing - he just makes rings out of his mustache.
The British immediately began to show various surprises and explain what they had adapted for military circumstances: sea storm gauges, merblue mantons of foot regiments, and tar waterproof cables for the cavalry. The Emperor rejoices at all this, everything seems very good to him, but Platov maintains his anticipation that everything means nothing to him.
The Emperor says:
How is this possible - why are you so insensitive? Isn't there anything surprising to you here? And Platov answers:
The only thing that surprises me here is that my fellow Don people fought without all this and drove away twelve languages.
The Emperor says:
This is recklessness.
Platov answers:
I don’t know what to attribute it to, but I don’t dare argue and must remain silent.
And the British, seeing such an exchange between the sovereign, now brought him to Abolon Polvedersky himself and took Mortimer’s gun from one hand and a pistol from the other.
“Here,” they say, “what our productivity is,” and they hand us a gun.
The Emperor looked calmly at Mortimer’s gun, because he had some like that in Tsarskoe Selo, and then they gave him a pistol and said:
This is a pistol of unknown, inimitable craftsmanship - our admiral pulled it from the belt of the robber chieftain in Candelabria.
The Emperor looked at the pistol and couldn’t see enough of it.
He got terribly excited.
Ah, ah, ah,” he says, “how is this possible... how can this even be done so subtly!” - And he turns to Platov in Russian and says: - Now, if I had at least one such master in Russia, I would be very happy and proud of this, and I would immediately make that master noble.
And Platov, at these words, at that very moment lowered his right hand into his large trousers and pulled out a gun screwdriver from there. The English say: “It doesn’t open,” but he, not paying attention, just picks the lock. I turned it once, turned it twice - the lock and got out. Platov shows the sovereign the dog, and there on the very bend there is a Russian inscription: “Ivan Moskvin in the city of Tula.”
The British are surprised and nudge each other:
Oh yes, we made a mistake!
And Emperor Platov sadly says:
Why did you make them so embarrassed, I feel very sorry for them now. Let's go.
They got back into the same two-seater carriage and drove off, and that day the sovereign was at the ball, and Platov suffocated another large glass of sour water and slept in a sound Cossack sleep.
He was happy that he had embarrassed the English and put the Tula master on the spot, but he was also annoyed: why did the sovereign feel sorry for the English on such an occasion!
“Why is the Emperor upset? - thought Platov, “I don’t understand that at all,” and in this reasoning he got up twice, crossed himself and drank vodka, until he forced himself into a deep sleep.
And the British were not sleeping at that very time either, because they too were dizzy. While the sovereign was having fun at the ball, they staged such a new surprise for him that Platov was robbed of all his imagination.
CHAPTER THREE
The next day, when Platov appeared to the sovereign with good morning, he said to him:
Let them lay down a two-seater carriage now, and let’s go to the new cabinets of curiosities to look.
Platov even dared to report that it wasn’t enough to look at foreign products and wouldn’t it be better to get ready for Russia, but the sovereign said:
No, I still want to see other news: I was praised for how they make the first grade of sugar.
The British keep showing the sovereign what different first grades they have, and Platov looked and looked and suddenly said:
Can you show us your Molvo sugar factories?
And the British don’t even know what rumor is. They whisper, wink, repeat to each other: “Molvo, molvo,” but they cannot understand that we make this kind of sugar, and they must admit that they have all the sugar, but “rumor” does not.
Platov says:
Well, there's nothing to brag about. Come to us, we will give you tea with real molvo from the Bobrinsky plant.
And the sovereign tugged at his sleeve and said quietly:
Please don't spoil politics for me.
Then the British called the sovereign to the very last chamber of curiosities, where they collected mineral stones and nymphosoria from all over the world, from the largest Egyptian ceramide to the subcutaneous flea, which is impossible for the eyes to see, but its bite is between the skin and the body.
The Emperor went.
They examined the ceramides and all sorts of stuffed animals and went out, and Platov thought to himself:
“Now, thank God, everything is fine: the sovereign is not surprised at anything.”
But they just arrived in the very last room, and here their workers were standing in tunic vests and aprons and holding a tray with nothing on it.
The Emperor was suddenly surprised that he was being served an empty tray.
What does this mean? - asks; and the English masters answer:
This is our humble offering to your Majesty.
What is this?
But, they say, would you like to see a speck?
The Emperor looked and saw: indeed, the tiniest speck was lying on the silver tray.
Workers say:
If you please, wet your finger and take it in your palm.
What do I need this speck for?
This, they answer, is not a speck, but a nymphosoria.
Is she alive?
“No,” they answer, “it’s not alive, but we forged it from pure English steel in the image of a flea, and in the middle there is a factory and a spring. If you please turn the key: she will now start dancing.
The Emperor became curious and asked:
Where's the key?
And the English say:
Here is the key in front of your eyes.
Why,” the sovereign says, “do I not see him?”
Because,” they answer, “it needs to be done through a small scope.”
A small scope was brought in, and the sovereign saw that there was indeed a key lying on a tray near the flea.
If you please, they say, take her in your palm - she has a winding hole in her little belly, and the key has seven turns, and then she will go dancing...
The sovereign grabbed this key with force and with force he could hold it in a pinch, and in another pinch he took a flea and just inserted the key, when he felt that she was starting to move her antennae, then she began to move her legs, and finally she suddenly jumped and in one flight straight dance and two beliefs to one side, then to the other, and so in three variations the whole kavril danced.
The Emperor immediately ordered the British to give a million, whatever money they wanted - they wanted it in silver coins, they wanted it in small banknotes.
The British asked to be given silver, because they didn’t know much about paper; and then now they showed another trick of theirs: they gave the flea as a gift, but they didn’t bring a case for it: without a case, you can’t keep it or the key, because they will get lost and be thrown into the trash. And their case for it is made of a solid diamond walnut and a place is pressed out in the middle. They didn’t submit this because the cases say they are government-issued, but they are strict about government-issued items, even though they are for the sovereign – you can’t donate.
Platov was very angry because he said:
What is this fraud for? They made a gift and received a million for it, and it’s still not enough! The case, he says, always belongs with every thing.
But the sovereign says:
Please leave it alone, it’s none of your business - don’t spoil politics for me. They have their own custom.” And he asks: “How much does that nut cost that contains the flea?”
The British paid another five thousand for this.
Sovereign Alexander Pavlovich said: “Pay,” and he himself dropped the flea into this nut, and with it the key, and in order not to lose the nut itself, he dropped it into his golden snuff-box, and ordered the snuff-box to be put in his travel box, which was all lined with prelamut and fish bone. The sovereign released the Aglitsky masters with honor and told them: “You are the first masters in the whole world, and my people cannot do anything against you.”
They were very pleased with this, but Platov could not say anything against the sovereign’s words. He just took the small scope and, without saying anything, put it in his pocket, because “it belongs here,” he says, “and you already took a lot of money from us.”
The sovereign did not know this until he arrived in Russia, but they left soon, because the sovereign became melancholy from military affairs and he wanted to have a spiritual confession in Taganrog with priest Fedot. On the way, he and Platov had very little pleasant conversation, because they had completely different thoughts: the sovereign thought that the British had no equal in art, and Platov argued that ours, no matter what they look at, can do anything, but only they have no useful teaching . And he represented to the sovereign that the English masters have completely different rules of life, science and food, and each person has all the absolute circumstances before him, and through this he has a completely different meaning.
The Emperor did not want to listen to this for a long time, and Platov, seeing this, did not become stronger. So they rode in silence, only Platov would come out at each station and, out of frustration, drink a leavened glass of vodka, snack on a salted lamb, light his root pipe, which immediately contained a whole pound of Zhukov’s tobacco, and then sit down and sit next to the Tsar in the carriage in silence. The Emperor is looking in one direction, and Platov is sticking his chibouk out the other window and smoking into the wind. So they got to St. Petersburg, and Tsar Platov did not take him to priest Fedot at all.
“You,” he says, “are intemperate in spiritual conversation and smoke so much that your smoke makes my head soot.”
Platov remained resentful and lay down on the annoying couch at home, and he lay there and Zhukov smoked tobacco incessantly.
CHAPTER FOUR
An amazing flea made of English blued steel remained with Alexander Pavlovich in a box under a fish bone until he died in Taganrog, giving it to priest Fedot, so that he could hand it over later to the empress, when she calmed down. Empress Elisaveta Alekseevna looked at the flea's belief and grinned, but did not bother with it.
“It’s mine,” she says, “now it’s a widow’s business, and no amusements are seductive to me,” and having returned to St. Petersburg, she handed over this wonder with all the other treasures as an inheritance to the new sovereign.
Emperor Nikolai Pavlovich at first also did not pay any attention to the flea, because at sunrise he was in confusion, but then one day he began to look through the box that he had inherited from his brother and took out a snuff box from it, and from the snuff box a diamond nut, and in it he found a steel flea, which had not been wound up for a long time and therefore did not act, but lay quietly, as if numb.
The Emperor looked and was surprised.
What kind of trifle is this and why does my brother have it in such preservation!
The courtiers wanted to throw it away, but the sovereign said:
No, does that mean anything?
They called a chemist from the Anichkin Bridge from the nasty pharmacy, who weighed poisons on the smallest scales, and they showed him, and now he took a flea, put it on his tongue and said: “I feel cold, as if from strong metal.” And then he slightly crushed it with his teeth and announced:
As you wish, but this is not a real flea, but a nymphosoria, and it is made of metal, and this work is not ours, not Russian.
The Emperor ordered us to find out now: where does this come from and what does it mean?
They rushed to look at the files and lists, but nothing was written down in the files. They started asking this and that, but no one knew anything. But, fortunately, the Don Cossack Platov was still alive and even still lay on his annoying couch and smoked his pipe. When he heard that there was such unrest in the palace, he immediately got up from his couch, hung up the phone and came to the sovereign in all orders. The Emperor says:
What do you, courageous old man, want from me?
And Platov answers:
I, Your Majesty, don’t need anything for myself, since I drink and eat what I want and am happy with everything, and I,” he says, “came to report about this nymphosoria that they found: this,” he says, “is the way it was, and this is how it happened before my eyes in England - and here she has a key, and I have their own microscope, through which you can see it, and with this key you can start this nymphosoria through the belly, and it will jump in any space you want and in the direction of belief to do.
They started it up, she went to jump, and Platov said:
“It’s true,” he says, “your majesty, that the work is very subtle and interesting, but we shouldn’t be surprised at this with mere delight of feelings, but we should subject it to Russian revisions in Tula or in Sesterbek - back then Sestroretsk was called Sesterbek, - Can’t our masters surpass this, so that the British do not exalt themselves over the Russians?
Sovereign Nikolai Pavlovich was very confident in his Russian people and did not like to give in to any foreigner, so he answered Platov:
It is you, a courageous old man, who speaks well, and I entrust you to believe this matter. I don’t need this box anyway now with my troubles, but you take it with you and don’t lie down on your annoying couch anymore, but go to the quiet Don and have internecine conversations there with my Don people about their lives and devotion and what they like. And when you go through Tula, show my Tula masters this nymphosoria, and let them think about it. Tell them from me that my brother was surprised at this thing and praised the strangers who did the nymphosoria most of all, but I hope for my own people that they are no worse than anyone. They will not let my word slip and will do something.
CHAPTER FIVE
Platov took the steel flea, and as he drove through Tula to the Don, he showed it to the Tula gunsmiths and conveyed the sovereign’s words to them, and then asked:
What should we do now, Orthodox?
Gunsmiths answer:
We, father, feel the gracious word of the sovereign and can never forget him because he trusts in his people, but what we should do in the present case, we cannot say in a minute, because the English nation is also not stupid, but It’s quite cunning, and the art in it has a lot of meaning. “They say that you must take on it after thinking and with God’s blessing.” And you, if your honor, like our sovereign, has confidence in us, go to your quiet Don, and leave us this flea as it is, in a case and in a golden royal snuffbox. Walk along the Don and heal the wounds that you took for your fatherland, and when you go back through Tula, stop and send for us: by that time, God willing, we will come up with something.
Platov was not entirely pleased that the Tula people were demanding so much time and, moreover, did not say clearly what exactly they were hoping to arrange. He asked them this way and that and spoke to them slyly in Don style in all manners; but the Tula people were in no way inferior to him in cunning, because they immediately had such a plan that they did not even hope that Platov would believe them, but wanted to directly fulfill their bold imagination, and then give it away.
We ourselves don’t yet know what we will do, but we will only hope in God, and perhaps the king’s word will not be put to shame for our sake.
So Platov wiggles his mind, and so do the Tula people.
Platov wiggled and wiggled, but saw that he couldn’t outweigh Tula, gave them a snuffbox with a nymphosoria and said:
Well, there’s nothing to do, let it be, he says, your way; I know what you are like, well, there’s nothing to do, I believe you, but just watch, so as not to replace the diamond and spoil the fine English work, but don’t bother for long, because I’m driving a lot: two weeks will not pass before I’ll turn from the quiet Don to St. Petersburg again - then I’ll certainly have something to show the sovereign.
The gunsmiths completely reassured him:
“We won’t damage the fine work,” they say, “and we won’t exchange the diamond, but two weeks is enough time for us, and by the time you return back, you will have something worthy of the sovereign’s splendor to present to you.”
But what exactly, they never said.
CHAPTER SIX
Platov left Tula, and the three gunsmiths, the most skilled of them, one with a sideways left hand, a birthmark on his cheek, and the hair on his temples torn out during training, said goodbye to his comrades and to his family and, without telling anyone, took their bags and put them away there what you need edibles and disappeared from the city.
They only noticed that they did not go to the Moscow outpost, but in the opposite, Kyiv direction, and thought that they went to Kyiv to bow to the deceased saints or to consult there with one of the living holy men, who are always in abundance in Kyiv .
But this was only close to the truth, and not the truth itself. Neither time nor distance allowed the Tula craftsmen to walk to Kyiv for three weeks and then have time to do the work that would disgrace the English nation. It would be better if they could go to pray in Moscow, which is only “two ninety miles away,” and there are many saints who rest there. And in the other direction, to Orel, the same “two ninety”, and beyond Orel to Kyiv again another good five hundred miles. You won’t make this path quickly, and having done it, you won’t rest soon - your legs will be glassy for a long time and your hands will be shaking.
Some even thought that the masters had boasted to Platov, and then, as they thought about it, they became cowardly and now ran away completely, taking with them the royal golden snuffbox, and the diamond, and the English steel flea in the case that had caused them trouble.
However, such an assumption was also completely unfounded and unworthy of skilled people, on whom the hope of the nation now rested.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Tula people, smart people and knowledgeable in metal work, are also known as the first experts in religion. In this regard, both their native land and even Saint Athos are full of their glory: they are not only masters of singing with the Babylonians, but they know how to paint the picture “evening bells,” and if one of them devotes himself to greater service and goes into monasticism, then These are considered the best monastic housekeepers, and the most capable collectors emerge from them. On Holy Athos they know that the Tula people are the most profitable people, and if not for them, the dark corners of Russia would probably not have seen many of the sacred things of the distant East, and Athos would have lost many useful offerings from Russian generosity and piety. Now the “Athos Tula people” carry saints throughout our homeland and skillfully collect collections even where there is nothing to take. Tula is full of church piety and a great practitioner of this matter, and therefore those three masters who undertook to support Platov and with him all of Russia did not make the mistake of heading not to Moscow, but to the south. They were not going to Kyiv at all, but to Mtsensk, to the district city of the Oryol province, in which there is an ancient “stone-cut” icon of St. Nicholas; sailed here in ancient times on a large stone cross along the Zusha River. This icon is of a “formidable and terrible” type - the saint of Myra-Lycia is depicted on it “full-length”, all dressed in silver-gilded clothes, and with a dark face and on one hand holding a temple, and in the other a sword - “military victory”. It was in this “overcoming” that the meaning of the thing lay: St. Nicholas in general is the patron of trade and military affairs, and “Nikola of Mtsensk” in particular, and it was to him that the Tula people went to bow. They served a prayer service at the icon itself, then at the stone cross, and finally returned home “at night” and, without telling anyone anything, set to work in terrible secrecy. All three of them came together in one house with the left-hander, locked the doors, closed the shutters in the windows, lit the lamp in front of Nikolin’s image and began to work.
For a day, two, three they sit and don’t go anywhere, they keep tapping with hammers. They are forging something, but what they are forging is unknown.
Everyone is curious, but no one can find out anything, because the workers don’t say anything and don’t show themselves. Different people went to the house, knocked on the doors under different guise, to ask for fire or salt, but the three artisans did not respond to any demand, and it was not even known what they ate. They tried to scare them, as if the house next door was on fire, so that they wouldn’t jump out in fright and then it would appear that what they had forged, but nothing would stop these cunning craftsmen; Once only the left-hander stuck out up to his shoulders and shouted:
Burn yourself, but we don’t have time,” and again he hid his plucked head, slammed the shutter, and set about his work.
Only through small cracks could one see the light shining inside the house, and one could hear thin hammers hammering on ringing anvils.
In a word, the whole business was conducted in such a terrible secret that nothing could be found out, and, moreover, it continued until the Cossack Platov returned from the quiet Don to the sovereign, and during all this time the masters did not see or talk to anyone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Platov rode very hastily and with ceremony: he himself sat in a carriage, and on the box two whistled Cossacks with whips on both sides of the driver sat down and so they watered him without mercy so that he could gallop. And if any Cossack dozes off, Platov himself will poke him out of the carriage with his foot, and they will rush even angrier. These incentive measures worked so successfully that nowhere could horses be kept at any station, and they always jumped past the stopping place a hundred races later. Then again the Cossack will act again on the driver, and they will return to the entrance.
So they rolled into Tula - they also first flew a hundred leaps further than the Moscow outpost, and then the Cossack pulled the whip on the driver in the opposite direction, and they began harnessing new horses at the porch. Platov did not get out of the carriage, but only ordered the whistler to bring the artisans to whom he had left the flea to him as soon as possible.
One whistler ran so that they would go as quickly as possible and bring him the work that was supposed to put the English to shame, and before that whistler ran away, Platov sent new ones after him over and over again, so that as quickly as possible.
He dispersed all the whistlers and began to send ordinary people from the curious public, and even he himself, out of impatience, puts his legs out of the stroller and he himself wants to run out of impatience, but he grinds his teeth - everything will not show up to him soon.
So at that time, everything was required very accurately and quickly, so that not a single minute of Russian usefulness was wasted.
CHAPTER NINE
The Tula masters, who did amazing work, were just finishing their work at that time. The whistlers ran to them out of breath, but ordinary people from the curious public did not reach them at all, because out of unaccustomment their legs scattered and fell along the road, and then, out of fear, so as not to look at Platov, they ran home and hid anywhere.
The whistlers just jumped up, now they screamed and when they saw that they weren’t unlocking, now the bolts on the shutters were pulled without ceremony, but the bolts were so strong that they didn’t budge at all, they pulled the doors, and the doors from the inside were locked with an oak bolt. Then the whistlers took a log from the street, used it like a fireman to hook it under the roofing bar, and immediately tore the entire roof off the small house. But the roof was removed, and now they themselves collapsed, because the craftsmen in their cramped mansion became such a sweaty spiral from restless work in the air that it was impossible for an unaccustomed person with a fresh wind to breathe even once.
The ambassadors shouted:
What are you so-and-so bastards doing, and even dare to make mistakes with such a spiral! Or after this there is no God in you!
And they answer:
We are now hammering in the last nail and as soon as we hammer it in, we will carry out our work.
And the ambassadors say:
Until that hour he will eat us alive and will not leave our souls behind.
But the masters answer:
It won’t have time to swallow you up, because while you were talking here, we’ve already hammered in this last nail. Run and say that we are carrying it now.
The whistlers ran, but not with confidence: they thought that the masters would deceive them; and therefore they run and run and look back; but the masters followed them and hurried so quickly that they didn’t even dress properly for the appearance of an important person, and as they walked they fastened the hooks in their caftans. Two of them had nothing in their hands, and the third, left-handed, had a royal box with an English steel flea in a green case.
CHAPTER TEN
The whistlers ran up to Platov and said:
Here they are!
Platov now to the masters:
Is it ready?
“Everything,” they answer, “is ready.”
Serve it here.
And the carriage is already harnessed, and the driver and postilion are in place. The Cossacks immediately sat down next to the coachman and raised their whips over him and waved them like that and held them.
Platov tore off the green cover, opened the box, took out a golden snuffbox from the cotton wool, and from the snuffbox a diamond nut - he saw: the English flea was lying there as it was, and besides it there was nothing else.
Platov says:
What is this? Where is your work, with which you wanted to console the sovereign?
The gunsmiths replied:
This is where our work comes in.
Platov asks:
What does she involve herself in?
And the gunsmiths answer:
Why explain this? Everything here is in your sight - and provide for it.
Platov raised his shoulders and shouted:
Where's the key to the flea?
And right there,” they answer, “Where there is a flea, there is a key, in one nut.”
Platov wanted to take the key, but his fingers were stubby: he caught and caught, but could not grab either the flea or the key to her abdominal plant, and suddenly he became angry and began to swear words in the Cossack manner.
That you scoundrels didn’t do anything, and what’s more, you probably ruined the whole thing! I'll take your head off!
And the Tula people answered him:
It’s in vain that you offend us so much - we, as from the sovereign’s ambassador, must endure all insults, but just because you doubted us and thought that we were even capable of deceiving the sovereign’s name - we will not tell you the secret of our work now , and please take us to the sovereign - he will see what kind of people we are and whether he is ashamed of us.
And Platov shouted:
Well, you’re lying, you scoundrels, I won’t part with you like that, and one of you will go with me to St. Petersburg, and I’ll find out what your tricks are there.
And with that, he reached out his hand, grabbed the barefoot left-hander by the collar with his knuckle fingers, so that all the hooks from his Cossack flew off, and threw him into the carriage at his feet.
“Sit here,” he says, “here all the way to St. Petersburg, like a pubel, - you will answer me for everyone.” And you,” he says to the whistlers, “now a guide!” Don’t miss the chance that the day after tomorrow I will visit the Emperor in St. Petersburg.
The masters only dared to say to him on behalf of his comrade: how can you take him away from us without any tugment? it will not be possible to follow him back! And Platov, instead of answering, showed them a fist - so terrible, lumpy and all chopped up, somehow fused together - and, threatening, said: “Here’s a tugament for you!” And he says to the Cossacks:
Gaida, guys!
The Cossacks, coachmen and horses - everything worked at once and sped off the left-handed man without a tugament, and a day later, as Platov ordered, they rolled him up to the sovereign’s palace and even, having galloped properly, drove past the columns.
Platov stood up, put on his medals and went to the sovereign, and ordered the slanting left-handed Cossacks to stand guard at the entrance.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Platov was afraid to show himself to the sovereign, because Nikolai Pavlovich was terribly wonderful and memorable - he did not forget anything. Platov knew that he would certainly ask him about the flea. And at least he wasn’t afraid of any enemy in the world, but then he chickened out: he entered the palace with a box and quietly placed it in the hall behind the stove and placed it. Having hidden the box, Platov appeared in the sovereign’s office and quickly began to report on the kind of internecine conversations the Cossacks were having on the quiet Don. He thought like this: in order to occupy the sovereign with this, and then, if the sovereign himself remembers and starts talking about the flea, he must file and answer, and if he does not speak, then remain silent; Order the office valet to hide the box, and put the Tula left-handed man in the fortress prison without time, so that he could sit there until the time comes, if necessary.
But Emperor Nikolai Pavlovich did not forget about anything, and as soon as Platov finished talking about internecine conversations, he immediately asked him:
Well, how did my Tula masters justify themselves against the English nymphosoria?
Platov answered as the matter seemed to him.
“Nymphosoria,” he says, “your majesty, is still in the same space, and I brought it back, and the Tula masters could not do anything more amazing.”
The Emperor replied:
You are a courageous old man, and this cannot be what you are reporting to me.
Platov began to assure him and told him how the whole thing happened, and how he went so far as to say that the Tula people asked him to show his flea to the sovereign, Nikolai Pavlovich patted him on the shoulder and said:
Serve it here. I know that my friends cannot deceive me. Something beyond the concept has been done here.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They took the box out from behind the stove, removed the cloth cover from it, opened the golden snuffbox and the diamond nut - and in it lay the flea, as it had been before and as it lay.
The Emperor looked and said:
What a dash! - But he did not diminish his faith in Russian masters, but ordered to call his beloved daughter Alexandra Nikolaevna and ordered her:
You have thin fingers on your hands - take a small key and quickly start the abdominal machine in this nymphosorium.
The princess began to twist the key, and the flea now moved its antennae, but did not touch it with its legs. Alexandra Nikolaevna has pulled the whole plant, but the nymphosoria still doesn’t dance and doesn’t throw out a single dance, as before.
Platov turned green and shouted:
Oh, they are dog scoundrels! Now I understand why they didn’t want to tell me anything there. It’s good that I took one of their fools with me.
With these words, he ran out to the entrance, caught the left-hander by the hair and began to toss him back and forth so that strands flew. And when Platov stopped beating him, he corrected himself and said:
All my hair was already torn out during my studies, but now I don’t know why I need such repetition?
“This is because,” says Platov, “I hoped and enlisted in you, but you ruined a rare thing.”
Lefty answers:
We are very pleased that you vouched for us, and we didn’t spoil anything: take it, look through the strongest microscope.
Platov ran back to tell him about the small scope, but only threatened the left-hander:
“I’ll ask you something like this,” he says.
And he ordered the whistlers to twist the left-hander’s elbows back even tighter, while he himself climbs the steps, out of breath and reads the prayer: “Good Tsar’s good mother, most pure and pure,” and further, as necessary. And the courtiers who are standing on the steps all turn away from him, thinking: Platov has been caught and now they will drive him out of the palace - that’s why they could not stand him for his bravery.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As Platov brought Levsha’s words to the sovereign, he now joyfully says:
I know that my Russian people will not deceive me.” And he ordered a small scope on the pillow.
At that very moment the microscope was handed over, and the sovereign took the flea and put it under the glass, first with its back up, then sideways, then with its belly - in a word, they turned it on all sides, but there was nothing to see. But the sovereign did not lose his faith here either, but only said:
Bring this gunsmith down here to me now.
Platov reports:
He needs to be dressed up - what he was wearing, and now he looks very angry.
And the sovereign answers:
Nothing - enter it as it is.
Platov says:
Now go yourself, so and so, answer before the eyes of the sovereign.
And the left-hander answers:
Well, I’ll go like that and answer.
He’s wearing what he was wearing: shorts, one trouser leg is in a boot, the other is dangling, and the collar is old, the hooks don’t fasten, they’re lost, and the collar is torn; but it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.
“What is it? - thinks. - If the sovereign wishes to see me, I must go; and if I don’t have a tugament with me, then I’m not harmed and I’ll tell you why this happened.”
As the left-handed man stood up and bowed, the sovereign now says to him:
What does this mean, brother, that we’ve looked this way and that, and put it under a microscope, but we don’t see anything remarkable?
And the left-hander answers:
Is this how you, Your Majesty, deigned to look?
The nobles nod at him: they say, that’s not what you’re saying! but he does not understand how to act like a courtier, with flattery or with cunning, but speaks simply.
The Emperor says:
Leave him to split hairs; let him answer as best he can.
And now I explained to him:
“We,” he says, “that’s how we laid it,” and put the flea under the microscope. “Look,” he says, “you can’t see anything.”
Lefty answers:
This way, Your Majesty, it’s impossible to see anything, because our work against this size is much more secret.
The Emperor asked:
But how should it be?
“We need,” he says, “to put just one of her legs in detail under the entire microscope and look separately at each heel on which she steps.
Have mercy, tell me,” says the sovereign, “this is already very petty!”
“But what can we do,” answers the left-hander, “if only in this way our work can be noticed: then everything will be surprising.”
They laid it down as the left-hander said, and as soon as the sovereign looked at the top glass, he became all beaming - he took the left-hander, how unkempt and dusty he was, unwashed, hugged him and kissed him, and then turned to all the courtiers and said:
You see, I knew better than anyone that my Russians would not deceive me. Look, please: they, the scoundrels, shoed the English flea into horseshoes!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Everyone began to come up and look: the flea really had all his feet shod with real horseshoes, and the left-handed man reported that this was not all that was surprising.
If,” he says, “there was a better microscope, which magnifies five million times, then you would deign,” he says, “to see that on each horseshoe the artist’s name is displayed: which Russian master made that horseshoe.”
And is your name on here? - asked the sovereign.
“No way,” the left-hander replies, “I’m the only one who doesn’t exist.”
Why?
And because,” he says, “I worked smaller than these horseshoes: I forged the nails with which the horseshoes are hammered, - no small scope can take them there anymore.”
The Emperor asked:
Where is your small scope with which you could produce this surprise?
And the left-hander replied:
We are poor people and due to our poverty we do not have a small scope, but our eyes are so focused.
Then the other courtiers, seeing that the left-handed business had burned out, began to kiss him, and Platov gave him a hundred rubles and said:
Forgive me, brother, for tearing your hair off.
Lefty answers:
God will forgive - this is not the first time that such snow has fallen on our heads.
But he didn’t say any more, and he had no time to talk to anyone, because the sovereign immediately ordered this savvy nymphosoria to be put to bed and sent back to England - like a gift, so that they would understand that this is not surprising to us. And the sovereign ordered that a special courier, who was educated in all languages, should carry the flea, and that a left-handed person should be with him, and that he himself could show the English the work and what kind of masters we have in Tula.
Platov baptized him.
“Let there be a blessing upon you,” he says, “and I will send you my own sauerkraut for the road.” Don't drink little, don't drink too much, but drink moderately.
That's what I did - I sent it.
And Count Kiselvrode ordered that the left-hander be washed in the Tulyakovo public baths, cut his hair at the barbershop and dressed in a ceremonial caftan from a court singer, so that it would look as if he had some kind of paid rank.
How they dressed him up in such a manner, gave him tea with Platov’s sour milk for the journey, tied him with a belt as tightly as possible so that his intestines did not shake, and took him to London. From here, with the left-handed person, foreign types began.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The courier and the left-handed man traveled very quickly, so that from St. Petersburg to London they did not stop anywhere to rest, but only at each station they tightened their belts by one badge so that the intestines and lungs did not get mixed up; but as the left-handed man, after being presented to the sovereign, according to Platov’s order, was given a generous portion of wine from the treasury, he, without eating, supported himself with this alone and sang Russian songs throughout Europe, only he did the chorus in a foreign language: “Ai lyuli - behold, we are fooling.” "
As soon as the courier brought him to London, he appeared to the right person and gave the box, and put the left-handed man in a hotel room, but he soon became bored here, and he also wanted to eat. He knocked on the door and pointed to his mouth to the attendant, who then took him to the food receiving room.
A left-hander sat down at the table and sat there, but he didn’t know how to ask something in English. But then he realized: again he simply taps on the table with his finger and shows it to himself in his mouth - the English guess and serve, but not always what is needed, but he does not accept anything that is not suitable for him. They served him a hot stew of theirs on the fire, he said: “I don’t know that you can eat such a thing,” and did not eat; They changed him and gave him another dish. Also, I didn’t drink their vodka, because it was green - it seemed like it was seasoned with vitriol, but I chose what was most natural, and waited for the courier in the cool behind a bottle.
And those people to whom the courier handed over the nymphosoria immediately examined it with the strongest microscope and now the description is included in the public gazette, so that tomorrow the slander will be publicly known.
And this master himself, they say, we now want to see.
The courier escorted them to the room, and from there to the food reception hall, where our left-hander was already quite browned, and said: “Here he is!”
The English now slap the left-hander on the shoulder and, as if he were an equal, by the hands. “Comrade,” they say, “comrade is a good master, “we’ll talk to you over time, later, and now we’ll drink to your well-being.”
They asked for a lot of wine, and left-hander the first glass, but he politely did not drink first: he thought, maybe you want to poison him out of frustration.
No,” he says, “this is not order: and there is no owner in Poland anymore; eat yourselves first.”
The English tasted all the wines before him and then they began to pour him some. He stood up, crossed himself with his left hand and drank health to them all.
They noticed that he crossed himself with his left hand, and asked the courier:
What is he - a Lutheran or a Protestant?
The courier answers:
No, he is not a Lutheran or a Protestant, but of the Russian faith.
Why does he cross himself with his left hand?
Courier said:
He is left-handed and does everything with his left hand.
The British began to be even more surprised - and began to pump wine into both the left-hander and the courier, and they did this for three whole days, and then they said: “Now that’s enough.” After a symphony of water with erfix they took it and, completely refreshed, began to question the left-hander: where did he and what did he study and how long has he known arithmetic?
Lefty answers:
Our science is simple: but the Psalter and the Half-Dream Book, and we don’t know arithmetic at all.
The English looked at each other and said:
This is amazing.
And Lefty answers them:
This is the case everywhere here.
And what, they ask, is this book in Russia, “The Half-Dream Book”?
This, he says, is a book that relates to the fact that if in the Psalter King David vaguely revealed something about fortune-telling, then in the Half-Dream Book they guess the addition.
They say:
This is a pity, it would be better if you knew at least four rules of addition from arithmetic, then it would be much more useful for you than the entire Half-Dream Book. Then you could realize that in every machine there is a calculation of force; Otherwise, you are very skillful in your hands, but you didn’t realize that such a small machine, like the one in the nymphosoria, is designed for the most accurate precision and cannot carry its shoes. Because of this, the nymphosoria now does not jump and does not dance.
Lefty agreed.
“There is no doubt about this,” he says, “that we are not too deep in the sciences, but only loyal to our fatherland.
And the British tell him:
Stay with us, we will impart great education to you, and you will become an amazing master.
But the left-hander did not agree to this.
“I have,” he says, “my parents at home.”
The British called themselves to send money to his parents, but the left-handed man did not take it.
“We,” he says, “are committed to our homeland, and my little brother is already an old man, and my mother is an old woman and is used to going to church in her parish, and it will be very boring for me here alone, because I am still single.
You, they say, will get used to it, accept our law, and we will marry you.
“This,” answered the left-hander, “can never happen.”
Why is this so?
Because,” he answers, “our Russian faith is the most correct, and as our right-wingers believed, our descendants should believe just as surely.”
“You,” say the English, “don’t know our faith: we adhere to the same Christian law and the same Gospel.”
“The Gospel,” answers the left-hander, “really is the same for everyone, but our books are thicker than yours, and our faith is more complete.”
Why can you judge it this way?
“We have all the obvious evidence of this,” he answers.
And such, - he says, - that we have god-made icons and grave-like heads and relics, but you have nothing, and even, except for one Sunday, there are no special holidays, and for the second reason - me and an Englishwoman, even though I got married in legally, it will be an embarrassment to live.
Why is this so? - they ask. - Don’t neglect it: ours also dress very cleanly and do their homework.
And the left-hander says:
I don't know them.
The British answer:
It doesn’t matter the point - you can find out: we’ll make you a grand deva.
Lefty was ashamed.
“Why,” he says, “is there no need to fool the girls?” And he refused. “For Grandev,” he says, “this is the master’s business, but it doesn’t suit us, and if they find out about this back home in Tula, they will make a big mockery of me.”
The British were curious:
And if, they say, there is no grand devo, then what do you do in such cases in order to make a pleasant choice?
Lefty explained our situation to them.
“With us,” he says, “when a person wants to discover a detailed intention about a girl, he sends a conversational woman, and as she makes an excuse, then they go into the house together politely and look at the girl without hiding, but with all the kinship.
They understood, but answered that they don’t have conversational women and this is not the custom, and the left-hander says:
This is all the more pleasant, because if you do something like this, you need to do it with a thorough intention, but since I don’t feel this way for a foreign nation, why fool the girls?
The English liked him for these judgments, so they again went to slap his shoulders and knees with pleasure with their palms, and they themselves asked:
We would, they say, only through curiosity alone would like to know: what vicious signs have you noticed in our girls and why are you avoiding them?
Here the left-hander already answered them frankly:
I’m not discrediting them, but I just don’t like the fact that their clothes are somehow flapping around, and you can’t tell what they’re wearing and for what purpose; there’s one thing here, and something else is pinned down below, and there are some boots on his hands. Exactly like a sapazhu monkey - a corduroy talma.
The English laughed and said:
What obstacle do you have in this?
“There are no obstacles,” the left-hander replies, “I’m just afraid that it will be a shame to watch and wait as she figures it all out.”
Is it really possible, they say, that your style is better?
“Our style,” he answers, “in Tula is simple: everyone wears their lace, and even big ladies wear our lace.”
They showed it to their ladies too, and there they poured tea for him and asked:
Why are you wincing?
He answered that he said that we were not accustomed to sweetness.
Then they served him a bite in Russian.
It seems to them that it’s worse, but he says:
For our taste, it tastes better.
The British couldn’t do anything to tempt him into falling for their life, but they only persuaded him to stay for a short time, and during that time they would take him around different factories and show him all their art.
And then, they say, we will bring him on our ship and deliver him alive to St. Petersburg.
He agreed to this.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The British took the left-hander into their own hands, and sent the Russian courier back to Russia. Although the courier had a rank and was trained in various languages, they were not interested in him, but were interested in the left-hander, and they went to take the left-hander and show him everything. He looked at all their production: metal factories and soap and saw factories, and he really liked all their economic procedures, especially regarding the maintenance of workers. Every worker they have is constantly well-fed, dressed not in rags, but each wearing a capable vest, shod in thick boots with iron knobs, so that his feet won’t get hurt anywhere; he works not with boilies, but with training and has ideas for himself. In front of everyone hangs a multiplication dot in plain sight, and under his hand is an erasable board: all the master does is look at the dot and compare it with the concept, and then he writes one thing on the board, erases another and puts it together neatly: what is written on the dots, then and it actually comes out. And when the holiday comes, they will gather in pairs, take a stick in their hands and go for a walk in a decorous and noble manner, as they should.
Lefty looked at all their lives and all their work, but most of all he paid attention to such an Object that the British were very surprised. He was less interested in how new guns were made than in what form the old ones were in. He goes around and praises everything and says:
We can do this too.
And when he gets to the old gun, he puts his finger in the barrel, runs along the walls and sighs:
This, he says, is far superior to ours.
The British could not guess what the left-handed person was noticing, and he asked:
“Can’t I,” he says, “know whether our generals ever looked at this or not? They tell him:
Those who were here must have been watching.
“And how,” he says, “were they wearing gloves or without gloves?”
Your generals, they say, are ceremonial, they always wear gloves; That means it was like that here too.
Lefty didn't say anything. But suddenly he began to feel restlessly bored. He became sad and sad and said to the English:
Humbly thank me throughout the meal, and I am very pleased with everything you have and I have already seen everything that I needed to see, and now I would rather go home.
There was no way they could hold him any longer. It was impossible to let him go on land, because he didn’t know all the languages, and it was not good to sail on water, because it was autumn, stormy, but he insisted: let him go.
We looked at the storm gauge, they say: there will be a storm, you can drown; It’s not like you have the Gulf of Finland, but here is the real Tverdizem Sea.
“It’s all the same,” he answers, “where to die, everything is the only thing, God’s will, but I want to quickly go to my native place, because otherwise I might get a form of insanity.”
They did not restrain him by force: they fed him, rewarded him with money, gave him a gold watch with a trembler as a souvenir, and for the coolness of the sea on the late autumn journey they gave him a flannelette coat with a wind cap over his head. They dressed him very warmly and took the left-handed man to the ship that was heading to Russia. Here they placed the left-hander in the best possible way, like a real master, but he did not like to sit with the other gentlemen in the closet and was ashamed, but would go on deck, sit down under the gift and ask: “Where is our Russia?”
The Englishman he asks will point his hand in that direction or wave his head, but he turns his face there and looks impatiently in his native direction.
As soon as they left the bay into the Solid Earth Sea, his desire for Russia became such that it was impossible to calm him down. The flooding has become terrible, but the left-hander still doesn’t go down to the cabins - he sits under the gift, pulls his cap down and looks towards the fatherland.
Many times the English came to a warm place to call him down, but so as not to be bothered, he even began to lash out.
No,” he answers, “I feel better outside here; Otherwise the swaying will turn into a guinea pig under my roof.
So all the time he didn’t go until a special occasion, and because of this, one half-skipper really liked him, who, to the grief of our left-hander, knew how to speak Russian. This half-skipper could not be surprised that the Russian landman could withstand all the bad weather.
Well done, he says, Russian! Let's have a drink!
Lefty drank.
And the half-skipper says:
Lefty drank some more and got drunk.
The half-skipper asks him:
What secret are you bringing from our state to Russia?
Lefty answers:
This is my business.
“And if so,” answered the half-skipper, “then let’s keep the English bet with you.”
Lefty asks:
Such that you don’t drink anything alone, but drink everything in equal parts: what one person does, the other one will certainly drink too,” and whoever drinks too much will get the same.
The left-hander thinks: the sky is cloudy, the belly is swelling, - there is great boredom, and the road is long, and one cannot see one’s native place behind the wave - it will still be more fun to keep a bet.
“Okay,” he says, “he’s coming!”
Just to be honest.
Yes, that’s it,” he says, “don’t worry.”
They agreed and shook hands.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Their bet began back in the Solid Earth Sea, and they drank all the way to Riga's Dynaminde, but they all walked on an equal footing and were not inferior to each other and were so neatly equal that when one, looking into the sea, saw the devil climbing out of the water, so now the same thing was announced to the other. Only the half-skipper sees the red devil, and the left-hander says that he is as dark as a murine.
Lefty says:
Cross yourself and turn away - this is the devil from the abyss.
And the Englishman argues that “this is a sea diver.”
“Do you want,” he says, “to throw you into the sea?” Don't be afraid - he'll give you back to me now.
And the left-hander answers:
If so, then throw it.
The half-skipper picked him up and carried him to the side.
The sailors saw this, stopped them and reported to the captain, and he ordered them both to be locked downstairs and given rum and wine and cold food so that they could drink and eat and stand their bet, but they should not be served hot water with fire, because the alcohol in their guts can ignite.
So they were brought locked up to St. Petersburg, and not one of them won the bet against each other; and then they laid them out on different carts and took the Englishman to the envoy’s house on Aglitskaya embankment, and the left-hander to the quarter.
From here their fates began to differ greatly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As soon as the Englishman was brought to the embassy house, they immediately called a doctor and a pharmacist to see him. The doctor ordered him to be put into a warm bath with him, and the pharmacist immediately rolled up a gutta-percha pill and put it in his mouth, and then they both took it together and put it on the feather bed and covered it with a fur coat and left it to sweat, and so that no one would bother him, throughout The embassy was given an order that no one should dare to sneeze. The doctor and the pharmacist waited until the half-skipper fell asleep, and then they prepared another gutta-percha pill for him, placed it on the table near his head and left.
And they knocked the left-hander down on the floor in the block and asked:
Who is he and where is he from, and do you have a passport or any other document?
And he was so weak from illness, from drinking and from the long thrashing that he didn’t answer a word, but only moaned.
Then they searched him, they took off his colorful dress and his watch with a chime, and they took his money, and the bailiff ordered him to be sent to the hospital for free in an oncoming cab.
The policeman took the left-handed man onto the sled, but for a long time he could not catch a single oncoming person, so the cab drivers ran away from the police. And the left-hander was lying on the cold paratha all the time; then the policeman caught a cab driver, only without a warm fox, because they hide the fox in the sleigh under themselves this time so that the policemen’s feet would quickly get cold. They were transporting a left-handed man so uncovered, and when they started transferring him from one cab to another, they would drop everything, and when they started picking him up, they would tear his ears so that he would remember.
They brought him to one hospital - they wouldn’t admit him without a certificate, they brought him to another - and they wouldn’t admit him there, and so on to the third, and to the fourth - until the morning they dragged him along all the remote crooked paths and kept changing them, so that he was completely beaten up. Then one doctor told the policeman to take him to the common people's Obukhvin hospital, where everyone of an unknown class is admitted to die.
Then they ordered me to give a receipt, and to put the left-handed person on the floor in the corridor until they were dismantled.
And the English half-skipper at that very time got up the next day, swallowed another gutta-percha pill into his gut, ate chicken with lynx for a light breakfast, washed it down with Erfix and said:
Where is my Russian comrade? I'll go look for him.
I got dressed and ran.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In an amazing way, the half-skipper somehow very soon found the left-handed man, only they had not yet put him on the bed, and he was lying on the floor in the corridor and complaining to the Englishman.
“I would definitely have to say two words to the sovereign,” he says.
The Englishman ran to Count Kleinmichel and made a noise:
Is that possible? “Even though he has a sheep’s fur coat,” he says, “he has the soul of a man.”
The Englishman is now out of there for this reasoning, so that he does not dare to remember the soul of the little man. And then someone said to him: “You’d better go to the Cossack Platov - he has simple feelings.”
The Englishman reached Platov, who was now lying on the couch again. Platov listened to him and remembered about the left-hander.
Why, brother,” he says, “I know him very briefly, I even tore him by the hair, but I don’t know how to help him in such an unfortunate time; because I’ve already completely served my service and received full popularization - now they don’t respect me anymore - and you run quickly to Commandant Skobelev, he is capable and also experienced in this area, he will do something.
The half-skipper went to Skobelev and told him everything: what illness the left-hander had and why it happened. Skobelev says:
I understand this disease, only the Germans cannot treat it, but here we need some doctor from the clergy, because they grew up in these examples and can help; I will now send the Russian doctor Martyn-Solsky there.
But only when Martyn-Solsky arrived, the left-hander was already finished, because the back of his head was split on the paratha, and he could only say one thing clearly:
Tell the sovereign that the British don’t clean their guns with bricks: let them not clean ours either, otherwise, God forbid war, they’re not good for shooting.
And with this fidelity, the left-hander crossed himself and died. Martyn-Solsky immediately went, reported this to Count Chernyshev in order to inform the sovereign, and Count Chernyshev shouted at him:
Know,” he says, “your emetic and laxative, and don’t interfere with your own business: in Russia there are generals for that.”
The Emperor was never told, and the purge continued until the Crimean campaign. At that time, they began to load guns, and the bullets dangled in them, because the barrels were cleared with bricks.
Here Martyn-Solsky reminded Chernyshev about being left-handed, and Count Chernyshev said:
Go to hell, pleisry tube, don’t interfere with your own business, otherwise I’ll confess that I’ve never heard about this from you, and you’ll get it too.
Martyn-Solsky thought: “He’ll really open up,” and remained silent.
And if they had brought the Leftist’s words to the sovereign in due time, the war with the enemy in Crimea would have taken a completely different turn.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Now all these are already “things of bygone days”: and “legends of antiquity”, although not deep, but there is no need to rush to forget these legends, despite the fabulous nature of the legend and the epic character of its main character. Lefty's own name, like the names of many of the greatest geniuses, is forever lost to posterity; but as a myth personified by popular fantasy, he is interesting, and his adventures can serve as a memory of an era, the general spirit of which is accurately and accurately captured.
Such masters as the fabulous left-hander, of course, are no longer in Tula: machines have leveled the inequality of talents and talents, and genius is not eager to fight against diligence and accuracy. While they favor an increase in earnings, machines do not favor artistic prowess, which sometimes exceeded the limit, inspiring popular imagination to compose fabulous legends similar to the current one.
Workers, of course, know how to appreciate the benefits brought to them by the practical devices of mechanical science, but they remember the old days with pride and love. This is their epic, and with a very “human soul.”
Tula people, smart people and knowledgeable in metal work, are also known as the first experts in religion. Their native land, and even Saint Athos, are full of their glory in this regard: they are not only masters of singing with, but they know how to paint the picture “evening bells,” and if one of them devotes himself to greater service and goes into monasticism, then such They are reputed to be the best monastic economists, and the most capable collectors emerge from them. they know that the Tula people are the most profitable people, and if not for them, then the dark corners of Russia would probably not have seen many of the sacred things of the distant East, and Athos would have lost many useful offerings from Russian generosity and piety. Now the “Athos Tula people” carry saints throughout our homeland and masterfully. Tula is full of church piety and a great practitioner of this matter, and therefore those three masters who undertook to support Platov and with him all of Russia did not make the mistake of heading not to Moscow, but to the south. They were not going to Kyiv at all, but to Mtsensk, to the district city of the Oryol province, in which there is an ancient icon of St. Nicholas, who sailed here in ancient times on a large stone cross along the river. This icon is of a “formidable and terrible” type - depicted on it “in full size”, all dressed in silver-gilded clothes, and with a dark face and holding a temple on one hand, and in the other a sword - “military victory”. It was in this “overcoming” that the meaning of the thing lay: St. Nicholas in general is the patron of trade and military affairs, and “Nikola of Mtsensk” in particular, and it was to him that the Tula people went to bow. They served a prayer service at the icon itself, then at the stone cross, and finally returned home and, without telling anyone, set to work in terrible secrecy. All three of them came together in one house with the left-hander, locked the doors, closed the shutters in the windows, lit the lamp in front of Nikolin’s image and began to work.
For a day, two, three they sit and don’t go anywhere, everyone is tapping with hammers. They are forging something, but what they are forging is unknown.
Everyone is curious, but no one can find out anything, because the workers don’t say anything and don’t show themselves. Different people went to the house, knocked on the doors under different guise, to ask for fire or salt, but the three artisans did not respond to any demand, and it was not even known what they ate. They tried to scare them, as if the house next door was on fire, in case they would jump out in fright and then reveal what they had forged, but nothing would stop these cunning craftsmen; Once only the left-hander stuck out up to his shoulders and shouted:
Burn yourself, but we have no time,” and again he hid his plucked head, slammed the shutter, and set about his work.
Only through small cracks one could see the light shining inside the house, and one could hear thin hammers hammering on ringing anvils.
In a word, the whole business was conducted in such a terrible secret that nothing could be found out, and, moreover, it continued until the Cossack Platov returned from the quiet Don to the sovereign, and during all this time the masters did not see or talk to anyone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Platov rode very quickly and with ceremony: he himself sat in a carriage, and on the box two Cossacks with whips on both sides of the driver sat down and so they watered him without mercy so that he could gallop. And if any Cossack dozes off, Platov himself will poke him from the carriage with his foot, and they will rush even angrier. These incentive measures worked so successfully that nowhere could horses be kept at any station, and they always jumped past the stopping place a hundred races later. Then again the Cossack will act again on the driver, and they will return to the entrance.
So they rolled into Tula - they also first flew a hundred leaps further than the Moscow outpost, and then the Cossack pulled the whip on the driver in the opposite direction, and they began harnessing new horses at the porch. Platov did not get out of the carriage, but only ordered the whistler to bring the artisans to whom he had left the flea to him as soon as possible.
One whistler ran so that they would go as quickly as possible and bring him the work with which they were supposed to put the English to shame, and this whistler had barely run away before Platov, after him, sent new ones over and over again, so that as quickly as possible.
He dispersed all the whistlers and began to send ordinary people from the curious public, and then he himself, out of impatience, puts his legs out of the carriage and he himself wants to run out of impatience, but he grinds his teeth - everything will not show up to him soon.
So at that time, everything was required very accurately and quickly, so that not a single minute was wasted for Russian usefulness.
CHAPTER NINE
The Tula masters, who did amazing work, were just finishing their work at that time. The whistlers ran to them out of breath, but ordinary people from the curious public did not reach them at all, because out of unaccustomment their legs scattered and fell along the road, and then, out of fear, so as not to look at Platov, they ran home and hid anywhere.
The whistlers just jumped up, now they screamed and when they saw that they weren’t unlocking, now the bolts on the shutters were pulled without ceremony, but the bolts were so strong that they didn’t budge at all, they pulled the doors, and the doors from the inside were secured with an oak bolt. Then the whistlers took a log from the street, used it like a fireman to hook it under the roofing bar, and immediately tore the entire roof off the small house. But the roof was removed, and now they themselves have collapsed, because the craftsmen in their cramped mansion have such restless work in the air that it was impossible for an unaccustomed person with a fresh wind to breathe even once.
The ambassadors shouted:
What are you so-and-so bastards doing, and even dare to make mistakes with such a spiral! Or after this there is no God in you!
And they answer:
We are now hammering in the last nail, and as soon as we hammer it in, we will take out our work.
And the ambassadors say:
Until that hour he will eat us alive and will not leave our souls behind.
But the masters answer:
It won’t have time to swallow you up, because while you were talking here, we’ve already hammered in this last nail. Run and say that we are carrying it now.
The whistlers ran, but not with confidence: they thought that the masters would deceive them; and therefore they run and run and look back; but the masters followed them and hurried so quickly that they didn’t even dress properly for the appearance of an important person, and as they walked they fastened the hooks in their caftans. Two of them had nothing in their hands, and the third, left-handed, had a royal box with an English steel flea in a green case.
CHAPTER TEN
The whistlers ran up to Platov and said:
Here they are!
Platov now to the masters:
Is it ready?
“Everything,” they answer, “is ready.”
Serve it here.
And the carriage is already harnessed, and the driver is in place. The Cossacks immediately sat down next to the coachman and raised their whips over him and waved them like that and held them.
Platov tore off the green cover, opened the box, took out a golden snuffbox from the cotton wool, and from the snuffbox a diamond nut - he saw: the English flea was lying there as it was, and besides it there was nothing else.
Platov says:
What is this? Where is your work, with which you wanted to console the sovereign?
The gunsmiths replied:
This is where our work comes in.
Platov asks:
What does she involve herself in?
And the gunsmiths answer:
Why explain this? Everything here is in your sight - and provide for it.
Platov raised his shoulders and shouted:
Where's the key to the flea?
And right there, they answer. - Where there is a flea, there is a key, in one nut.
Platov wanted to take the key, but his fingers were stubby: he caught and caught, but could not grab either the flea or the key to her abdominal plant, and suddenly he became angry and began to swear words in the Cossack manner.
That you scoundrels didn’t do anything, and what’s more, you probably ruined the whole thing! I'll take your head off!
And the Tula people answered him:
It’s in vain that you offend us so much - we, as from the sovereign’s ambassador, must endure all insults, but only because you doubted us and thought that we were even capable of deceiving the sovereign’s name - we will not tell you the secret of our work now , if you please take us to the sovereign - he will see what kind of people we are and whether he is ashamed of us.
And Platov shouted:
Well, you’re lying, you scoundrels, I won’t part with you like that, and one of you will go with me to St. Petersburg, and I’ll find out what your tricks are there.
And with that, he reached out his hand, grabbed the slanting left-hander by the collar with his knuckle fingers, so that all the hooks from his Cossack flew off, and threw him into the carriage at his feet.
Sit,” he says, “here all the way to St. Petersburg, like, “you will answer me for everyone.” And you,” he says to the whistlers, “now a guide!” Don’t miss the chance that the day after tomorrow I will visit the Emperor in St. Petersburg.
The masters only dared to say to him on behalf of his comrade, how can you take him away from us without such care? it will not be possible to follow him back! And Platov, instead of answering, showed them a fist - so terrible, lumpy and all chopped up, somehow fused together - and, threatening, said: “Here’s a tugament for you!” And he says to the Cossacks:
Gaida, guys!
The Cossacks, coachmen and horses - everything started working at once and sped off the left-handed man without a tugament, and a day later, as Platov ordered, they rolled him up to the sovereign’s palace and even, having galloped properly, drove past the columns.
Platov stood up, put on his medals and went to the sovereign, and ordered the slanting left-handed Cossacks to stand guard at the entrance.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Platov was afraid to show himself to the sovereign, because Nikolai Pavlovich was terribly wonderful and memorable - he did not forget anything. Platov knew that he would certainly ask him about the flea. And at least he wasn’t afraid of any enemy in the world, but then he chickened out: he entered the palace with the box and quietly placed it in the hall behind the stove and placed it. Having hidden the box, Platov appeared in the sovereign’s office and quickly began to report on the kind of internecine conversations the Cossacks were having on the quiet Don. He thought like this: in order to occupy the sovereign with this, and then, if the sovereign himself remembers and starts talking about the flea, he must file and answer, and if he does not speak, then remain silent; Order the office valet to hide the box, and put the Tula left-handed man in serfdom without a deadline, so that he can sit there until the time comes, if necessary.
But Emperor Nikolai Pavlovich did not forget about anything, and as soon as Platov finished talking about internecine conversations, he immediately asked him:
Well, how did my Tula masters justify themselves against the English nymphosoria?
Platov answered as the matter seemed to him.
Nymphosoria, - he says, - your majesty, is still in the same space, and I brought it back, and the Tula masters could not do anything more amazing.
The Emperor replied:
You are a courageous old man, and this cannot be what you are reporting to me.
Platov began to assure him and told him how the whole thing happened, and how he went so far as to say that the Tula people asked him to show his flea to the sovereign, Nikolai Pavlovich patted him on the shoulder and said:
Serve it here. I know that my friends cannot deceive me. Something beyond the concept has been done here.
CHAPTER TWELVE
They took the box out from behind the stove, removed the cloth cover from it, opened the golden snuffbox and the diamond nut - and in it lay the flea, as it had been before and as it lay.
The Emperor looked and said:
What a dash! - But he did not diminish his faith in Russian masters, but ordered to call and ordered her:
You have thin fingers on your hands - take a small key and quickly start the abdominal machine in this nymphosorium.
The princess began to twist the key, and the flea now moved its antennae, but did not touch it with its legs. Alexandra Nikolaevna has pulled out the whole plant, but the nymphosoria still doesn’t dance or perform any dances, as before.
Platov turned green and shouted:
Oh, they are dog scoundrels! Now I understand why they didn’t want to tell me anything there. It’s good that I took one of their fools with me.
With these words, he ran out to the entrance, caught the left-hander by the hair and began to toss him back and forth so that strands flew. And when Platov stopped beating him, he corrected himself and said:
All my hair was already torn out during my studies, but now I don’t know why I need such repetition?
This is because,” says Platov, “I hoped and enlisted in you, but you ruined a rare thing.”
Lefty answers:
We are very pleased that you vouched for us, and we didn’t spoil anything: take it, .
Platov ran back to tell him about the small scope, but only threatened the left-hander:
“I’ll ask you this and that,” he says.
And he ordered the whistlers to twist the left-handed man’s elbows back even tighter, while he himself climbs the steps, out of breath and reads the prayer: “Good Tsar’s good mother, most pure and pure,” and further, as necessary. And the courtiers who are standing on the steps all turn away from him, thinking: Platov has been caught and now they will drive him out of the palace - that’s why they could not stand him for his bravery.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As Platov conveyed Levshin’s words to the sovereign, he now joyfully says:
I know that my Russian people will not deceive me. - II ordered to bring a small scope on the pillow.
At that very moment the microscope was handed over, and the sovereign took the flea and put it under the glass, first with its back up, then sideways, then with its belly - in a word, they turned it in all directions, but there was nothing to see. But the sovereign did not lose his faith here either, but only said:
Bring this gunsmith down here to me now.
Platov reports:
He needs to be dressed up - what he was wearing, and now he looks very angry.
And the sovereign answers:
Nothing - enter it as it is.
Platov says:
Now go yourself, so and so, answer before the eyes of the sovereign.
And the left-hander answers:
Well, I’ll go like that and answer.
He’s wearing what he was wearing: shorts, one pant leg is in a boot, the other is dangling, but it’s old, the hooks don’t fasten, they’re lost, and the collar is torn; but it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.
“What is it? - thinks. - If the sovereign wants to see me, I must go; and if I don’t have a tugament with me, then it’s not my fault and I’ll tell you why this happened.”
As the left-handed man stood up and bowed, the sovereign now said to him:
What does this mean, brother, that we’ve looked this way and that, and put it under a microscope, but we don’t see anything remarkable?
And the left-hander answers:
Is this how you, Your Majesty, deigned to look?
The nobles nod at him: they say, that’s not what you’re saying! but he does not understand how to act like a courtier, with flattery or with cunning, but speaks simply.
The Emperor says:
Leave him to split hairs; let him answer as best he can.
And now I explained to him:
“This is how we laid it,” he says. - And put the flea under the microscope. “Look,” he says, “you can’t see anything.”
Lefty answers.
This way, Your Majesty, it’s impossible to see anything, because our work against this size is much more secret.
The Emperor asked:
But how should it be?
“It is necessary,” he says, “to put just one of her legs in detail under the entire microscope and look separately at each heel on which she steps.
Have mercy, tell me,” says the sovereign, “this is already very petty!”
“But what can we do,” the left-hander answers, “if only in this way our work can be noticed: then everything will be surprising.”
They laid it down as the left-hander said, and as soon as the sovereign looked at the top glass, he became all beaming - he took the left-hander, how unkempt and dusty he was, unwashed, hugged him and kissed him, and then turned to all the courtiers and said:
You see, I knew better than anyone that my Russians would not deceive me. Look, please: they, the scoundrels, shoed the English flea into horseshoes!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Everyone began to come up and look: the flea really had all his feet shod with real horseshoes, and the left-handed man reported that this was not all that was surprising.
If,” he says, “there was a better microscope, which magnifies five million times, then you would deign,” he says, “to see that on each horseshoe the artist’s name is displayed: which Russian master made that horseshoe.”
And is your name on there? - asked the sovereign.
“No way,” the left-handed man replies, “I’m the only one who doesn’t exist.”
Why?
“And because,” he says, “I worked smaller than these horseshoes: I forged the nails with which the horseshoes are hammered, - no small scope can take them there anymore.”
The Emperor asked:
Where is your small scope with which you could produce this surprise?
And the left-hander replied:
We are poor people and due to our poverty we do not have a small scope, but our eyes are so focused.
Then the other courtiers, seeing that the left-handed business had burned out, began to kiss him, and Platov gave him a hundred rubles and said:
Forgive me, brother, for tearing your hair off.
Lefty answers:
God forgive us - this is not the first time we have had such snow.
But he didn’t say any more, and he had no time to talk to anyone, because the sovereign immediately ordered this savvy nymphosoria to be put to bed and sent back to England - like a gift, so that they would understand that this is not surprising to us. And the sovereign ordered that a special courier, who was trained in all languages, should carry the flea, and that a left-handed person should be with him, and that he himself could show the English the work and what kind of masters we have in Tula.
Platov baptized him.
“Let there be a blessing upon you,” he says, “and I will send you my own kislyarka for the road.” Don't drink little, don't drink too much, but drink moderately.
That's what I did - I sent it.
And this master himself, they say, we now want to see.
The courier escorted them to the room, and from there to the food reception hall, where our left-hander was already quite browned, and said: “Here he is!”
The British now slap the left-hander on the shoulder and, as if he were his equal, by the hands. “Comrade,” they say, “comrade is a good master, we’ll talk to you over time, later, and now we’ll drink to your well-being.”
They asked for a lot of wine, and left-hander the first glass, but he politely did not drink first: he thought, maybe you want to poison him out of frustration.
No, he says, this is not order: there is no owner in Poland anymore, eat ahead yourself.
The English tasted all the wines before him and then they began to pour him some. He stood up, crossed himself with his left hand and drank health to them all.
They noticed that he crossed himself with his left hand, and asked the courier:
What is he - a Lutheran or a Protestant?
The courier answers:
No, he is not a Lutheran or a Protestant, but of the Russian faith.
Why does he cross himself with his left hand?
Courier said:
He is left-handed and does everything with his left hand.
The British began to be even more surprised and began to pump wine into both the left-hander and the courier, and they did this for three whole days, and then they said: “Now that’s enough.” They took some water and, having completely refreshed themselves, began to question the left-handed man: where did he and what did he study and how long has he known arithmetic?
Lefty answers:
Our science is simple: according to the Psalter and the Half-Dream Book, but we don’t know arithmetic at all.
The English looked at each other and said:
This is amazing.
And the left-hander answers them:
This is the case everywhere here.
And what, they ask, is this book in Russia, “The Half-Dream Book”?
This, he says, is a book that relates to the fact that if in the Psalter King David vaguely revealed something about fortune-telling, then in the Half-Dream Book they guess the addition.
They say:
This is a pity, it would be better if you knew at least four rules of addition from arithmetic, then it would be much more useful for you than the entire Half-Dream Book. Then you could have realized that in every machine there is a calculation of force, otherwise you are very skilled in your hands, but you did not realize that such a small machine as in the nymphosoria is designed for the most accurate accuracy and cannot carry its shoes. Because of this, the nymphosoria now does not jump and does not dance.
Lefty agreed.
There is no doubt about this, he says, that we are not too deep in the sciences, but only loyal to our fatherland.
And the British tell him:
Stay with us, we will impart great education to you, and you will become an amazing master.
But the left-hander did not agree to this.
“I have,” he says, “my parents at home.”
The British called themselves to send money to his parents, but the left-handed man did not take it.
“We,” he says, “are committed to our homeland, and my little brother is already an old man, and my mother is an old woman and is used to going to church in her parish, and it will be very boring for me here alone, because I am still single.
You, they say, will get used to it, accept our law, and we will marry you.
“This,” answered the left-hander, “can never happen.”
Why is this so?
Because,” he answers, “our Russian faith is the most correct, and as our right-wingers believed, our descendants should believe just as surely.”
You, say the English, do not know our faith: we hold the same Christian law and hold the same gospel.
“The Gospel,” answers the left-hander, “really is the same for everyone, but our books are thicker than yours, and our faith is more complete.”
Why can you judge it this way?
“We have all the obvious evidence of this,” he answers.
And such, - he says, - that we have, and you have nothing, and even, except for one Sunday, there are no special holidays, and for the second reason - for me and an Englishwoman, even though I was married in law, it will be embarrassing for me to live.
Why is this so? - they ask. - Don’t neglect it: ours also dress very cleanly and are economical.
And the left-hander says:
I don't know them.
The British answer:
It doesn’t matter the point - you can find out: we will do it for you.
Lefty was ashamed.
Why, he says, is there no need to fool the girls? - And he refused. “Grandevu,” he says, “this is the master’s business, but we don’t care, and if they find out about this at home in Tula, they will make a big mockery of me.”
The British were curious:
And if, they say, there is no grand devo, then what do you do in such cases in order to make a pleasant choice?
Lefty explained our situation to them.
“With us,” he says, “when a person wants to discover a detailed intention about a girl, he sends a conversational woman, and as she makes an excuse, then they go into the house together politely and look at the girl without hiding, but with all the kinship.
They understood, but answered that they don’t have conversational women and this is not the custom, and the left-hander says:
This is all the more pleasant, because if you do something like this, you need to do it with a thorough intention, but since I don’t feel this way for a foreign nation, why fool the girls?
The British liked him in these judgments, so they again went to slap his shoulders and knees with pleasure with their palms, and they themselves asked:
We would, they say, only through curiosity alone would like to know: what vicious signs have you noticed in our girls and why are you avoiding them?
Here the left-hander already answered them frankly:
I’m not discrediting them, but I just don’t like the fact that their clothes are somehow flapping around, and you can’t tell what they’re wearing and for what purpose; there’s one thing here, and something else is pinned down below, eh.
The English laughed and said:
What obstacle do you have in this?
“There are no obstacles,” the left-hander replies, “I’m just afraid that it will be a shame to watch and wait as she figures it all out.”
Is it really possible, they say, that your style is better?
“Our style,” he answers, “in Tula is simple: everyone wears their lace, and even big ladies wear our lace.”
They showed it to their ladies too, and there they poured tea for him and asked:
Why are you wincing?
He answered that he said that we were not accustomed to sweetness.
Then they served him a bite in Russian.
It seems to them that it’s worse, but he says:
For our taste, it tastes better.
The British couldn’t do anything to tempt him into falling for their life, but they only persuaded him to stay for a short time, and during that time they would take him around different factories and show him all their art.
And then, they say, we will bring him on our ship and We'll deliver you alive to St. Petersburg.
He agreed to this.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
The British took the left-hander into their own hands, and sent the Russian courier back to Russia. Although the courier had a rank and was trained in various languages, they were not interested in him, but were interested in the left-hander - and they went to take the left-hander and show him everything. He looked at all their production: metal factories and soap and saw factories, and he really liked all their economic procedures, especially regarding the maintenance of workers. Every worker they have is constantly well-fed, not dressed in rags, but each one is wearing a capable vest, and is wearing thick ones with iron knobs, so that his feet won’t get hurt anywhere; does not work, but with training and has ideas. In front of everyone hangs in plain sight, and under his hand, there is an erasable board: all that the master does is look at the board and check it with the concept, and then he writes one thing on the board, erases another and puts it together neatly: what is written on the numbers is also on in fact it turns out. And when the holiday comes, they will gather in pairs, take a stick in their hands and go for a walk in a decorous and noble manner, as they should.
Lefty saw enough of their entire life and all their work, but most of all he paid attention to such an object that the British were very surprised. It wasn't as much about how new guns are made as it was about how the old ones are in what form. He goes around and praises everything and says:
We can do this too.
And when he reaches the old gun, he puts his finger in the barrel, runs along the walls and sighs:
This, he says, is far superior to ours.
The British could not guess what the left-handed person was noticing, and he asked:
“Can’t I,” he says, “know whether our generals ever looked at this or not?”
They tell him:
Those who were here must have been watching.
And how, he says, were they: with gloves or without gloves?
Your generals, they say, are ceremonial, they always wear gloves; That means it was like that here too.
Lefty didn't say anything. But suddenly he began to feel restlessly bored. He became sad and sad and said to the English:
Humbly thank me throughout the meal, and I’m very pleased with everything you have and I’ve already seen everything I needed to see, and now I’d rather go home.
There was no way they could hold him any longer. It was impossible to let him go on land, because he didn’t know all the languages, and it was not good to sail on water, because it was autumn, stormy, but he insisted: let him go.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replies, “where to die, it’s all the same, it’s God’s will, but I want to go to my native place as soon as possible, because otherwise I might get a form of insanity.”
They did not restrain him by force: they fed him, rewarded him with money, gave him gold coins as a souvenir, and for the coolness of the sea on the late autumn journey they gave him a flannelette coat with a wind cap over his head. They dressed him very warmly and took the left-hander to the ship that was heading to Russia. Here they placed the left-hander in the best possible way, like a real master, but he did not like to sit with the other gentlemen in the closet and was ashamed, but would go on deck and ask: “Where is our Russia?”
The Englishman he asks will point his hand in that direction or wave his head, but he turns his face there and looks impatiently in his native direction.
Lefty asks:
Such that you don’t drink anything alone, but drink everything in equal parts: what one person does, the other one will certainly drink too, and whoever drinks too much will get the same.
The left-hander thinks: the sky is cloudy, the belly is swelling, - there is great boredom, and the road is long, and one cannot see one’s native place behind the wave - it will still be more fun to keep a bet.
“Okay,” he says, “he’s coming!”
Just to be honest.
Yes, that’s it,” he says, “don’t worry.”
They agreed and shook hands.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Their bet began back in the Solid Earth Sea, and they drank, but they walked on an equal footing and were not inferior to each other, and were so neatly equal that when one, looking into the sea, saw the devil climbing out of the water, now the same thing happened. it was announced to another. Only the half-skipper sees the red devil, and the left-handed man says that he is as dark as .
Lefty says:
Cross yourself and turn away - it's the devil from the abyss.
And the Englishman argues that “this is a sea diver.”
“Do you want,” he says, “to throw you into the sea?” Don't be afraid - he'll give you back to me now.
And the left-hander answers:
If so, then throw it.
The half-skipper picked him up and carried him to the side.
The sailors saw this, stopped them and reported to the captain, and he ordered them both to be locked downstairs and given rum and wine and cold food so that they could drink and eat and stand their bet, but not to serve them hot water with fire, because the alcohol in their guts can ignite.
So they were brought locked up to St. Petersburg, and not one of them won the bet against each other; and then they laid them out on different carts and took the Englishman to the envoy’s house on Aglitskaya embankment, and the left-hander to the quarter.
From here their fates began to differ greatly.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As soon as the Englishman was brought to the embassy house, they immediately called a doctor and a pharmacist to see him. The doctor ordered him to be put into a warm bath with him, and the pharmacist immediately rolled up a gutta-percha pill and put it in his mouth, and then they both took it together and put it on the feather bed and covered it with a fur coat and left it to sweat, and so that no one would bother him, throughout The embassy was given an order that no one should dare to sneeze. The doctor and the pharmacist waited until the half-skipper fell asleep, and then they prepared another gutta-percha pill for him, placed it on the table near his head and left.
And they knocked the left-hander down on the floor in the block and asked:
Who is he and where is he from, and do you have a passport or any other document?
And he was so weak from illness, from drinking and from the long thrashing that he didn’t answer a word, but only moaned.
Then they searched him, they took off his motley dress, his watch with a chime, and they took his money, and the bailiff ordered him to be sent to the hospital for free in an oncoming cab.
The policeman took the left-handed man onto the sled, but for a long time he could not catch a single oncoming person, so the cab drivers ran away from the police. And the left-handed man lay all this time; then the policeman caught a cab driver, only without a warm fox, because this time they hide the fox in the sleigh under themselves so that the policemen’s feet would quickly get cold. They were transporting a left-handed man so uncovered, and when they started transferring him from one cab to another, they would drop everything, and when they started picking him up, they would tear his ears so that he would remember. They took him to one hospital - they wouldn’t admit him without a certificate, they brought him to another - and they wouldn’t admit him there, and so on to the third, and to the fourth - until the morning they dragged him through all the remote crooked paths and kept changing them, so that he was completely beaten up. Then one told the policeman to take him to the common people, where everyone of an unknown class is accepted to die.
Then they ordered me to give a receipt, and to put the left-handed person on the floor in the corridor until they were dismantled.
And the English half-skipper at that very time got up the next day, swallowed another gutta-percha pill into his gut, ate it for a light breakfast, washed it down with Erfix and said:
Where is my Russian comrade? I'll go look for him.
I got dressed and ran.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
In an amazing way, the half-skipper somehow very soon found the left-handed man, only they had not yet put him on the bed, but he was lying on the floor in the corridor and complaining to the Englishman.
“I would definitely have to say two words to the sovereign,” he says.
The Englishman ran to the count and made a noise:
Is that possible? “Even though he has a sheep’s fur coat,” he says, “he has the soul of a man.”
The Englishman is now out of there for this reasoning, so that he does not dare to remember the soul of the little man. And then someone said to him: “You’d better go to the Cossack Platov - he has simple feelings.”
The Englishman reached Platov, who was now lying on the couch again. Platov listened to him and remembered about the left-hander.
Why, brother,” he says, “I know him very briefly, I even tore him by the hair, but I don’t know how to help him in such an unfortunate time; because I’ve already completely served my time and now they don’t respect me anymore, but you run quickly to the commandant, he’s capable and also experienced in this area, he’ll do something.
The half-skipper went to Skobelev and told him everything: what illness the left-hander had and why it happened. Skobelev says:
I understand this disease, only the Germans cannot treat it, but here we need someone, because they have grown up in these examples and can help; I will now send the Russian doctor Martyn-Solsky there.
But only when Martyn-Solsky arrived, the left-hander was already finished, because the back of his head was split on the paratha, and he could only say one thing clearly:
Tell the sovereign that they don’t want to clean ours, otherwise, God forbid the war, they won’t be able to shoot.
And with this fidelity, the left-hander crossed himself and died.
Martyn-Solsky immediately went and reported this to the count to inform the sovereign, and Count Chernyshev shouted at him:
Know,” he says, “your emetic and laxative, and don’t interfere with your own business: in Russia there are generals for that.”
The Emperor was never told, and the purge continued until the Crimean campaign. At that time, they began to load guns, and the bullets dangled in them, because the barrels were cleared with bricks.
Here Martyn-Solsky reminded Chernyshev about being left-handed, and Count Chernyshev said:
Go to hell, don't mind your own business, otherwise I'll confess that I never heard about this from you, and you'll get it too.
Martyn-Solsky thought: “He’ll really open up,” and remained silent.
And if they had brought the Leftist’s words to the sovereign in due time, the war with the enemy in Crimea would have taken a completely different turn.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Now all this is already, although not deep, but there is no need to rush to forget these legends, despite the fabulous nature of the legend and the epic character of its main character. Lefty's own name, like the names of many of the greatest geniuses, is forever lost to posterity; but as a myth personified by popular fantasy, he is interesting, and his adventures can serve as a memory of an era, the general spirit of which is accurately and accurately captured.
Such masters as the fabulous left-hander, of course, are no longer in Tula: machines have leveled the inequality of talents and gifts, and genius is not eager to fight against diligence and accuracy. While they favor an increase in earnings, machines do not favor artistic prowess, which sometimes exceeded the limit, inspiring popular imagination to compose fabulous legends similar to the current one.
Workers, of course, know how to appreciate the benefits brought to them by the practical devices of mechanical science, but they remember the old days with pride and love. This is their epic, and with a very “human soul.”
1881
Notes:
When Emperor Alexander Pavlovich graduated from the Vienna Council... - Alexander I played a major role at the Congress of Vienna (1814-1815), which ended the wars with Napoleon and established new borders of states based on the restoration of feudal reaction and the “legitimate” power of the old dynasties.
... internecine conversations... - Here in the sense: conversations among themselves.
Platov Matvey Ivanovich, Count (1751-1818) - ataman of the Don Cossacks, cavalry general, prominent figure in the Patriotic War. After the conclusion of peace, he accompanied Alexander I to London.
Kunstkamera- collection of rarities, museum.
Grubovaty- instead of: hunchbacked.
Kizlyarka- low quality grape vodka produced in the city of Kizlyar in the Caucasus.
Folder- a folding icon painted on two or three doors.
Two-seater- connection of words: double and sit down.
Busters- connection of words: busts and chandeliers.
Canopy- instead of: canopy.
Abolon Polvedersky- instead of: Apollo Belvedere (the famous ancient statue kept in Rome, in the Vatican).
Storm gauge- connection of words: barometer and storm.
Merblues- instead of: camel.
Manton- the same as a manto.
Waterproof cable- instead of: waterproof raincoat (a combination of the Russian word “waterproof” with the ending of the French adjective).
Anticipation- combination of nouns: agitation (excitement, excitement - from the French agitation) and expectation.
Twelve language - twelve nations. This expression often referred to Napoleon's army.
Recklessness- combination of words: prejudice and recklessness.
Mortimer's gun. - G. W. Mortimer - English gunsmith of the late 18th century.
Pistol- gun.
... in Candelabria... - obviously, instead of “in Calabria” (Calabria is a peninsula in Italy). Connected with the word: candelabra (candle stand).
... would make it noble. -“Noble” here means: nobleman.
Sugib- fold
Sugar molvo. - In the 10-20s of the 19th century in St. Petersburg there was a sugar factory “of the commerce of the adviser and gentleman” Ya. N. Molvo.
... Bobrinsky plant. - The refinery plant of Count A. A. Bobrinsky existed in the town of Smela, Kyiv province. from the 30s of the 19th century.
Nymphosoria- a combination of words: ciliates and nymph.
Ceramide- instead of: pyramid.
... danse dance. - Danser (French) - dance; here in the meaning of some dance form.
Small scope- combination of words: microscope and finely.
Probability- instead of: variation (a form of classical or character dance, based on jumping or finger movements, lasting one or two minutes).
Alexey Fedotov-Chekhovsky- priest of the Taganrog Cathedral Church, to whom Alexander I confessed before his death.
Root tube- carved from the root of a tree.
Zhukov tobacco. - In the 20-50s, pipe tobacco from the St. Petersburg factory of Vasily Zhukov was very popular.
Bite- instead of: couch.
Empress Elisaveta Alekseevna(1779-1826) - wife of Alexander I.
...at its rising... - that is, at the beginning of the reign.
... from Anichkin Bridge from a nasty pharmacy... - that is, from the pharmacy opposite the Anichkov Bridge (at the corner of Nevsky Prospekt and the Fontanka embankment).
... back then Sestroretsk was called Sesterbek. - In geographical books of the 18th and early 19th centuries, Sestroretsk, as well as the Sestra River on which it stands, are named: Sesterbek; Sisterbek, Sestrabek, Sisterbek.
... "two ninety miles"... - that is, 180 versts.
Babylons- winding patterns, frills.
On Holy Athos... - Athos is a peninsula in Greece, on which there were many monasteries and monasteries, including Russian ones.
...collect fees even where there is nothing to take. - In “New Time”, 1882, No. 2412 (dated November 14), Leskov published a note “Printed begging”, in which he draws attention to “illegal begging for monasteries” - especially from the Athos monastery, which even sent out printed circulars “with a request for alms" and a fee for "memories". Wed. also the story “Speed is necessary to catch fleas, but in business you need inspection” from the series “Notes of an Unknown” (p. 341 of this volume).
"Stone-Cut"- carved from stone.
Zusha- the river on which the city of Mtsensk stands; tributary of the Oka.
Saint of Myra-Lycia... - Nicholas the “miracle worker” (IV century) was an archbishop in the city of Myra in the country of Lycia (in Asia Minor).
"Noshiyu"- at night.
Whistling- connection of words: messengers and whistle.
... a sweaty spiral has become... - “Spiral” here is like a noun from the verb “spiral” (sweaty spiral - air stale with sweat).
Postilion- a riding coachman on the front horse when harnessed in a train.
Pubel- obviously, instead of: poodle.
Tugament- instead of: document.
Kazamat- casemate (solitary cell in a fortress).
... my beloved daughter Alexandra Nikolaevna... - Alexandra Nikolaevna (1825-1844) - the youngest daughter of Nicholas I.
... look through the strongest microscope. - Tula craftsmen are still famous for the fineness of their work. Thus, the Soviet gunsmith M.I. Pochukaev “placed his signature on one stem of the ornament, only 0.1 mm wide; it is visible only with a strong magnifying glass” (V. Ashurkov. The Tale of Tula Mastery. - In the book: N. S. Leskov. The Tale of the Tula Oblique Left-Handed Man, Tula, 1948, p. 14).
Ozyamchik- Azam, long-skimmed peasant outerwear.
Count Kiselvrode- Count Nesselrode Karl Vasilyevich (1780-1862), in 1822-1856 - Minister of Foreign Affairs.
"Ay Lyuli - they're cheating". - Cest très joli (French) - this is very cute.
Studing- combination of words: pudding and jelly.
Public- combination of words: public and police.
Slander- combination of words: feuilleton and slander.
Symphony- instead of: siphon (a bottle with a tap for sparkling or mineral water).
Erfix(French air fixe - solid form) - a sobering agent added to water.
... and idolatrous icons and grave-like heads and relics... - instead of: and miraculous icons, myrrh-streaming (supposedly exuding fragrant myrrh) heads and relics.
Grandevu- instead of: rendezvous (French rendez-vous - love date).
... but he has some kind of boots on his hands. Exactly like a sapazhu monkey - a corduroy talma. - Boots - socks. Sapazhu is a genus of monkeys with short, thick fur. Talma is a long sleeveless cape. Plis is a cotton fabric similar to velvet.
Schiglets- instead of: boots.
With boilie- with fighting, with beatings.
Multiplication dozer. - Dolbitsa - a combination of words: table and chisel.
Solid Earth Sea- instead of: Mediterranean.
Clock with trembler. - Trepetir - a combination of words: repeater (a mechanism in a pocket watch that chimes time when a special spring is pressed) and tremble.
... will sit under the present... - Present (gift) here instead: tarpaulin.
Bufta- instead of: bay.
Half skipper- instead of: under-skipper - assistant skipper.
Pareus- instead of: bet.
...to Riga Dynaminde... - Dunamünde, since 1893 Ust-Dvinsk, now Daugavgriva - a port at the mouth of the Western Dvina.
Murin- black person.
...on a cold paratha... - Parat - probably instead of a front porch.
Under-healer- medical assistant, paramedic.
Obukhvinskaya hospital- instead of: Obukhovskaya.
...chicken with lynx... - instead of: chicken with rice.
Kleinmichel Pyotr Andreevich, count (1793-1869), from 1842 to 1855 - chief manager of communications and public buildings.
... received complete poppletion... - Puplection instead of: apoplexy (stroke, paralysis).
Skobelev Ivan Nikitich(1778-1849) - general, since 1839 commandant of the Peter and Paul Fortress.
... doctor from the clergy... Martyn-Solsky. - Martyn Dmitrievich Solsky (1798-1881) was a doctor in the guards regiments, a St. Petersburg stadt physicist, and a member of the medical council of the Ministry of Internal Affairs. Son of a priest.
... the British don’t clean their guns with bricks... - A. N. Leskov reports on conversations between N. S. Leskov in the summer of 1878 with H. E. Bolonin, assistant to the head of the Sestroretsk arms factory: “Nikolai Egorovich spoke ... about the barbaric treatment of firearms under the Pavlovichs, when ... the guns were being cleaned crushed brick or sand, both outside and inside... All this was useful to “Lefty”, who, in patriotic fervor until the last minute, longed to inform the Tsar so that the guns would not be torn with bricks, but would be kept oiled” (A. Leskov. The Life of Nikolai Leskov, pp. 373-374).
Chernyshev Alexander Ivanovich (1786-1857) - since 1826, Count, since 1841, His Serene Highness; in the years from 1827 to 1852 - Minister of War.
Plaisir tube(French plaisir - pleasure) - here instead: clyster tube.
... “deeds of bygone days” and “legends of antiquity”... - inaccurate quote from (beginning of song one).
When Emperor Alexander Pavlovich graduated from the Vienna Council, he wanted to travel around Europe and see wonders in different states. He traveled to all countries and everywhere, through his affectionateness, he always had the most internecine conversations with all sorts of people, and everyone surprised him with something and wanted to bend him to their side, but with him was the Don Cossack Platov, who did not like this inclination and, missing his the household, still beckoned the sovereign home. And as soon as Platov notices that the sovereign is very interested in something foreign, then all those accompanying him are silent, and Platov will now say: “So and so, and we have our own at home, no worse,” and will take him away with something.
The British knew this and, upon the arrival of the sovereign, they came up with various tricks in order to captivate him with his foreignness and distract him from the Russians, and in many cases they achieved this, especially in large meetings where Platov could not fully speak French; but he was little interested in this, because he was a married man and considered all French conversations to be trifles that were not worth imagining. And when the British began to invite the sovereign to all their prisons, weapons factories and soap-saw factories, in order to show their advantage over us in all things and to be famous for it, Platov said to himself:
- Well, it’s a sabbath here. Until now I have endured, but I can’t go on. Whether I can speak or not, I won’t betray my people.
And as soon as he said this word to himself, the sovereign said to him:
- So and so, tomorrow you and I are going to look at their weapons cabinet. There,” he says, “there are such natures of perfection that once you look at them, you will no longer argue that we Russians are no good with our meaning.”
Platov did not answer the sovereign, he just lowered his horned nose into his shaggy cloak, but came to his apartment and ordered the orderly to bring a flask of Caucasian vodka-sour from the cellar [ 1Kizlyarki. (Author's note.)], shook a good glass, prayed to God on the road fold, covered himself with a cloak and snored so much that no one in the whole English house could sleep.
I thought: morning is wiser than night.
The next day the sovereign and Platov went to the Kunstkamera. The Emperor did not take any more Russians with him, because they were given a two-seater carriage.
They arrive at a very large building - the entrance is indescribable, the corridors are endless, and the rooms are one after the other, and, finally, in the main hall there are various huge busts, and in the middle under the Canopy stands Abolon of Polveder.
The Emperor looks back at Platov: is he very surprised and what is he looking at? and he walks with his eyes downcast, as if he sees nothing - he just makes rings out of his mustache.
The British immediately began to show various surprises and explain what they had adapted for military circumstances: sea storm gauges, merblue mantons of foot regiments, and tar waterproof cables for the cavalry. The Emperor rejoices at all this, everything seems very good to him, but Platov maintains his agitation that everything means nothing to him.
The Emperor says:
- How is this possible - why are you so insensitive? Isn't there anything surprising to you here?
And Platov answers:
“The only thing that surprises me here is that my fellow Don people fought without all this and drove away twelve people.”
The Emperor says:
- This is recklessness.
Platov answers:
“I don’t know what to attribute it to, but I don’t dare argue and must remain silent.”
And the British, seeing such an exchange between the sovereign, now brought him to Abolon Polvedersky himself and took Mortimer’s gun from one hand and a pistol from the other.
“Here,” they say, “what our productivity is,” and they hand over the gun.
The Emperor looked at Mortimer’s gun calmly, because he had some like that in Tsarskoe Selo, and then they gave him a pistol and said:
“This is a pistol of unknown, inimitable craftsmanship - our admiral pulled it from the belt of the robber chieftain in Candelabria.”
The Emperor looked at the pistol and couldn’t see enough of it.
He got terribly excited.
“Ah, ah, ah,” he says, “how is this possible... how can this even be done so subtly!” “And he turns to Platov in Russian and says: “If I only had one such master in Russia, I would be very happy and proud of it, and I would immediately make that master noble.”
And Platov, at these words, at that very moment lowered his right hand into his large trousers and pulled out a gun screwdriver from there. The English say: “It doesn’t open,” but he, not paying attention, just picks the lock. I turned it once, turned it twice - the lock and got out. Platov shows the sovereign the dog, and there on the very bend there is a Russian inscription: “Ivan Moskvin in the city of Tula.”
The British are surprised and nudge each other:
- Oh, we made a mistake!
And Emperor Platov sadly says:
“Why did you make them so embarrassed, I feel very sorry for them now.” Let's go.
They got back into the same two-seater carriage and drove off, and that day the sovereign was at the ball, and Platov suffocated another large glass of sour water and slept in a sound Cossack sleep.
He was happy that he had embarrassed the English and put the Tula master on the spot, but he was also annoyed: why did the sovereign feel sorry for the English on such an occasion!
“Why is the Emperor upset? - Platov thought, “I don’t understand that at all,” and in this reasoning he got up twice, crossed himself and drank vodka, until he forced himself into a deep sleep.
And the British were not sleeping at that very time either, because they too were dizzy. While the sovereign was having fun at the ball, they staged such a new surprise for him that Platov was robbed of all his imagination.
The next day, when Platov appeared to the sovereign with good morning, he said to him:
“Let them lay down the two-seater carriage now, and we’ll go to the new cabinets of curiosities to look.”
Platov even dared to report that it wasn’t enough to look at foreign products and wouldn’t it be better to get ready for Russia, but the sovereign said:
- No, I still want to see other news: they praised me how they make the first grade of sugar.
The British show everything to the sovereign: what different first grades they have, and Platov looked and looked and suddenly said:
– Can you show us your Molvo sugar factories?
And the British don’t even know what rumor is. They whisper, wink, repeat to each other: “Molvo, molvo,” but they cannot understand that we make this kind of sugar, and they must admit that they have all the sugar, but “rumor” does not.
Platov says:
- Well, there’s nothing to brag about. Come to us, we will give you tea with real molvo from the Bobrinsky plant.
And the sovereign tugged at his sleeve and said quietly:
– Please don’t spoil politics for me.
Then the British called the sovereign to the very last chamber of curiosities, where they collected mineral stones and nymphosoria from all over the world, from the largest Egyptian ceramide to the subcutaneous flea, which is impossible for the eyes to see, and its sting is between the skin and the body.
The Emperor went.
They examined the ceramides and all sorts of stuffed animals and went out, and Platov thought to himself:
“Now, thank God, everything is fine: the sovereign is not surprised at anything.”
But they just arrived in the very last room, and here their workers were standing in tunic vests and aprons and holding a tray with nothing on it.
The Emperor was suddenly surprised that he was being served an empty tray.
-What does this mean? – asks; and the English masters answer:
“This is our humble offering to your Majesty.”
- What is this?
“But,” they say, “would you like to see a speck?”
The Emperor looked and saw: indeed, the tiniest speck was lying on the silver tray.
Workers say:
“If you please, wet your finger and take it in your palm.”
- What do I need this speck for?
“This,” they answer, “is not a speck, but a nymphosoria.”
- Is she alive?
“No,” they answer, “it’s not alive, but we forged it from pure English steel in the image of a flea, and in the middle there is a factory and a spring.” If you please turn the key: she will now start dancing.
The Emperor became curious and asked:
- Where is the key?
And the English say:
- Here is the key in front of your eyes.
“Why,” says the sovereign, “do I not see him?”
“Because,” they answer, “it needs to be done through a small scope.”
A small scope was brought in, and the sovereign saw that there was indeed a key lying on a tray near the flea.
“If you please,” they say, “take her in your palm—she has a winding hole in her little belly, and the key has seven turns, and then she will go dancing…”
The sovereign grabbed this key with force and with force he could hold it in a pinch, and in another pinch he took a flea and just inserted the key, when he felt that she was starting to move her antennae, then she began to move her legs, and finally she suddenly jumped and in one flight straight dance and two beliefs to one side, then to the other, and so in three variations the whole kavril danced.
The Emperor immediately ordered the British to give a million, whatever money they wanted - they wanted it in silver coins, they wanted it in small banknotes.
The British asked to be given silver, because they didn’t know much about paper; and then now they showed another trick of theirs: they gave the flea as a gift, but they didn’t bring a case for it: without a case, you can’t keep it or the key, because they will get lost and be thrown into the trash. And their case for it is made of a solid diamond nut and a place is pressed out in the middle. They didn’t submit this because the cases say they are government-issued, but they are strict about government-owned items, even though they are for the sovereign – you can’t donate.
Platov was very angry because he said:
– Why such fraud! They made a gift and received a million for it, and it’s still not enough! The case, he says, always belongs with every thing.
But the sovereign says:
- Please leave it alone, it’s none of your business - don’t spoil politics for me. They have their own custom. - And asks: - How much does that nut cost, in which the flea is located?
The British paid another five thousand for this.
Sovereign Alexander Pavlovich said: “Pay,” and he himself dropped the flea into this nut, and with it the key, and in order not to lose the nut itself, he dropped it into his golden snuff-box, and ordered the snuff-box to be put in his travel box, which was all lined with prelamut and fish bone. The sovereign released the Aglitsky masters with honor and told them: “You are the first masters in the whole world, and my people cannot do anything against you.”
They were very pleased with this, but Platov could not say anything against the sovereign’s words. He just took the small scope and, without saying anything, put it in his pocket, because “it belongs here,” he says, “and you already took a lot of money from us.”
The sovereign did not know this until he arrived in Russia, but they left soon, because the sovereign became melancholy from military affairs and he wanted to have a spiritual confession in Taganrog with priest Fedot [ 2“Pop Fedot” was not taken from the wind: Emperor Alexander Pavlovich, before his death in Taganrog, confessed to the priest Alexei Fedotov-Chekhovsky, who was then called “His Majesty’s confessor,” and loved to point out to everyone this completely random circumstance. This Fedotov-Chekhovsky, obviously, is the legendary “Priest Fedot.” (Author's note.)]. On the way, he and Platov had very little pleasant conversation, because they had completely different thoughts: the sovereign thought that the British had no equal in art, and Platov argued that ours, no matter what they look at, can do anything, but only they have no useful teaching . And he represented to the sovereign that the English masters have completely different rules of life, science and food, and each person has all the absolute circumstances before him, and through this he has a completely different meaning.
The Emperor did not want to listen to this for a long time, and Platov, seeing this, did not become stronger. So they rode in silence, only Platov would come out at each station and, out of frustration, drink a leavened glass of vodka, snack on a salted lamb, light his root pipe, which immediately contained a whole pound of Zhukov’s tobacco, and then sit down and sit next to the Tsar in the carriage in silence. The Emperor is looking in one direction, and Platov is sticking his chibouk out the other window and smoking into the wind. So they got to St. Petersburg, and Tsar Platov did not take him to priest Fedot at all.
“You,” he says, “are intemperate in spiritual conversation and smoke so much that your smoke makes my head soot.”
Platov remained resentful and lay down on the annoying couch at home, and he lay there and Zhukov smoked tobacco incessantly.
An amazing flea made of English blued steel remained with Alexander Pavlovich in a box under a fish bone until he died in Taganrog, giving it to priest Fedot, so that he could hand it over later to the empress, when she calmed down. Empress Elisaveta Alekseevna looked at the flea's belief and grinned, but did not bother with it.
“It’s mine,” she says, “now it’s a widow’s business, and no amusements are seductive to me,” and when she returned to St. Petersburg, she handed over this wonder with all the other treasures as an inheritance to the new sovereign.
Emperor Nikolai Pavlovich at first also did not pay any attention to the flea, because at sunrise he was in confusion, but then one day he began to look through the box that he had inherited from his brother and took out a snuff box from it, and from the snuff box a diamond nut, and in it he found a steel flea, which had not been wound up for a long time and therefore did not act, but lay quietly, as if numb.
The Emperor looked and was surprised.
- What kind of trifle is this and why does my brother have it in such preservation!
The courtiers wanted to throw it away, but the sovereign said:
- No, it means something.
They called a chemist from Anichkin Bridge from the nasty pharmacy, who weighed poisons on the smallest scales, and they showed him, and now he took a flea, put it on his tongue and said: “I feel cold, as if from strong metal.” And then he slightly crushed it with his teeth and announced:
– As you wish, but this is not a real flea, but a nymphosoria, and it is made of metal, and this work is not ours, not Russian.
The Emperor ordered us to find out now: where does this come from and what does it mean?
They rushed to look at the files and lists, but nothing was written down in the files. They started asking this and that, but no one knew anything. But, fortunately, the Don Cossack Platov was still alive and even still lay on his annoying couch and smoked his pipe. When he heard that there was such unrest in the palace, he immediately got up from his couch, hung up the phone and came to the sovereign in all orders. The Emperor says:
- What do you, courageous old man, want from me?
And Platov answers:
“I, Your Majesty, don’t need anything for myself, since I drink and eat what I want and am happy with everything, and I,” he says, “came to report about this nymphosoria that they found: this,” he says, “is how it was.” , and this is how it happened before my eyes in England - and here she has a key, and I have their own microscope, through which you can see it, and with this key you can start this nymphosoria through the belly, and she will jump in any way space and to the sides of the probability of doing.
They started it up, she went to jump, and Platov said:
“It’s true,” he says, “your majesty, that the work is very subtle and interesting, but we shouldn’t be surprised at this with mere delight of feelings, but we should subject it to Russian revisions in Tula or in Sesterbek - then Sestroretsk was still called Sesterbek , - can’t our masters surpass this, so that the British do not exalt themselves over the Russians?
Sovereign Nikolai Pavlovich was very confident in his Russian people and did not like to give in to any foreigner, so he answered Platov:
“You, courageous old man, speak well, and I entrust you to believe this matter.” I don’t need this box anyway now with my troubles, but you take it with you and don’t lie down on your annoying couch anymore, but go to the quiet Don and have internecine conversations there with my Don people about their lives and devotion and what they like. And when you go through Tula, show my Tula masters this nymphosoria, and let them think about it. Tell them from me that my brother was surprised at this thing and praised the strangers who did the nymphosoria most of all, but I hope for my own people that they are no worse than anyone. They will not let my word slip and will do something.
Platov took the steel flea, and as he drove through Tula to the Don, he showed it to the Tula gunsmiths and conveyed the sovereign’s words to them, and then asked:
– What should we do now, Orthodox?
Gunsmiths answer:
“We, father, feel the gracious word of the sovereign and can never forget him because he trusts in his people, but what we should do in the present case, we cannot say in one minute, because the English nation is also not stupid, and quite cunning, and the art in it has a lot of meaning. Against it, they say, we must take it after thought and with God’s blessing. And you, if your honor, like our sovereign, has confidence in us, go to your quiet Don, and leave us this flea as it is, in a case and in a golden royal snuffbox. Take a walk along the Don and heal the wounds that you took for your fatherland, and when you go back through Tula, stop and send for us: by then, God willing, we will come up with something.
Platov was not entirely satisfied that the Tula people were demanding so much time and, moreover, did not say clearly what exactly they were hoping to arrange. He asked them this way and that and spoke to them slyly in Don style in all manners; but the Tula people were not inferior to him in cunning, because they immediately had such a plan that they did not even hope that Platov would believe them, but wanted to directly fulfill their bold imagination, and then give it away.
“We ourselves don’t yet know what we will do, but we will only hope in God, and perhaps the king’s word will not be put to shame for our sake.”
So Platov wiggles his mind, and so do the Tula people.
Platov wiggled and wiggled, but saw that he couldn’t outweigh Tula, gave them a snuffbox with a nymphosoria and said:
“Well, there’s nothing to do, let it be your way,” he says; I know what you are like, well, there’s nothing to do, I believe you, but just watch, so as not to replace the diamond and spoil the fine English work, but don’t bother for long, because I drive a lot: two weeks will not pass before I’ll turn from the quiet Don to St. Petersburg again - then I’ll certainly have something to show the sovereign.
The gunsmiths completely reassured him:
“It’s fine work,” they say, “we won’t damage it and we won’t exchange the diamond, but two weeks is enough time for us, and by the time you return back, we’ll have something worthy of presenting to the sovereign’s splendor.”
But what exactly, they never said.
Platov left Tula, and the three gunsmiths, the most skilled of them, one with a sideways left hand, a birthmark on his cheek, and the hair on his temples torn out during training, said goodbye to his comrades and to his family and, without telling anyone, took their bags and put them away there they needed food and fled the city. They only noticed that they did not go to the Moscow outpost, but in the opposite, Kyiv direction, and thought that they went to Kyiv to bow to the deceased saints or to consult there with one of the living holy men, who are always in abundance in Kyiv .
But this was only close to the truth, and not the truth itself. Neither time nor distance allowed the Tula craftsmen to walk to Kyiv for three weeks and then have time to do the work that would disgrace the English nation. It would be better if they could go to pray in Moscow, which is only “two and ninety miles away,” and there are many saints who rest there. And in the other direction, to Orel, the same “two ninety”, and beyond Orel to Kyiv again another good five hundred miles. You won’t make this journey quickly, and even after you’ve made it, you won’t be able to rest soon - your legs will be glassy for a long time and your hands will be shaking.
Some even thought that the masters had boasted to Platov, and then, as they thought about it, they became cowardly and now ran away completely, taking with them the royal golden snuffbox, and the diamond, and the English steel flea in the case that had caused them trouble.
However, such an assumption was also completely unfounded and unworthy of skilled people, on whom the hope of the nation now rested.
Tula people, smart people and knowledgeable in metal work, are also known as the first experts in religion. Their native land, and even Saint Athos, are full of their glory in this regard: they are not only masters of singing with the Babylonians, but they know how to paint the picture “evening bells,” and if one of them devotes himself to greater service and goes into monasticism, then These are considered the best monastic housekeepers, and the most capable collectors emerge from them. On Holy Athos they know that the Tula people are the most profitable people, and if not for them, then the dark corners of Russia would probably not have seen many of the sacred things of the distant East, and Athos would have lost many useful offerings from Russian generosity and piety. Now the “Athos Tula people” carry saints throughout our homeland and skillfully collect collections even where there is nothing to take. Tula is full of church piety and a great practitioner of this matter, and therefore those three masters who undertook to support Platov and with him all of Russia did not make the mistake of heading not to Moscow, but to the south. They were not going to Kyiv at all, but to Mtsensk, to the district city of the Oryol province, in which there is an ancient “stone-cut” icon of St. Nicholas; sailed here in ancient times on a large stone cross along the Zusha River. This icon is of a “formidable and terrible” type - the saint of Myra-Lycia is depicted on it “full-length”, all dressed in silver-gilded clothes, and with a dark face and on one hand holding a temple, and in the other a sword - “military victory”. It was in this “overcoming” that the meaning of the thing lay: St. Nicholas in general is the patron of trade and military affairs, and “Nikola of Mtsensk” in particular, and it was to him that the Tula people went to bow. They served a prayer service at the icon itself, then at the stone cross, and finally returned home “at night” and, without telling anyone anything, set to work in terrible secrecy. All three of them came together in one house with the left-hander, locked the doors, closed the shutters in the windows, lit the lamp in front of Nikolin’s image and began to work.
For a day, two, three they sit and don’t go anywhere, everyone is tapping with hammers. They are forging something, but what they are forging is unknown.
Everyone is curious, but no one can find out anything, because the workers don’t say anything and don’t show themselves. Different people went to the house, knocked on the doors under different guise, to ask for fire or salt, but the three artisans did not respond to any demand, and it was not even known what they ate. They tried to scare them, as if the house next door was on fire, in case they would jump out in fright and then reveal what they had forged, but nothing would stop these cunning craftsmen; Once only the left-hander stuck out up to his shoulders and shouted:
“Burn yourself, but we don’t have time,” and again he hid his plucked head, slammed the shutter, and set about their work.
Only through small cracks one could see the light shining inside the house, and one could hear thin hammers hammering on ringing anvils.
In a word, the whole business was conducted in such a terrible secret that nothing could be found out, and, moreover, it continued until the Cossack Platov returned from the quiet Don to the sovereign, and during all this time the masters did not see or talk to anyone.
Platov rode very hastily and with ceremony: he himself sat in a carriage, and on the box two whistled Cossacks with whips on both sides of the driver sat down and so they watered him without mercy so that he could gallop. And if any Cossack dozes off, Platov himself will poke him from the carriage with his foot, and they will rush even angrier. These incentive measures worked so successfully that nowhere could horses be kept at any station, and they always jumped past the stopping place a hundred races later. Then again the Cossack will act again on the driver, and they will return to the entrance.
So they rolled into Tula - they also flew a hundred leaps further than the Moscow outpost, and then the Cossack pulled the whip on the driver in the opposite direction, and they began harnessing new horses at the porch. Platov did not get out of the carriage, but only ordered the whistler to bring the artisans to whom he had left the flea to him as soon as possible.
One whistler ran so that they would go as quickly as possible and bring him the work with which they were supposed to put the English to shame, and this whistler had barely run away before Platov, after him, sent new ones over and over again, so that as quickly as possible.
He dispersed all the whistlers and began to send ordinary people from the curious public, and even he himself, out of impatience, puts his legs out of the stroller and wants to run out of impatience, but he grinds his teeth - everything will not show up to him soon.
So at that time, everything was required very accurately and quickly, so that not a single minute was wasted for Russian usefulness.
The Tula masters, who did amazing work, were just finishing their work at that time. The whistlers ran to them out of breath, but ordinary people from the curious public did not reach them at all, because out of habit they lost their legs and fell down along the way, and then out of fear, so as not to look at Platov, they ran home and hid anywhere.
The whistlers just jumped up, now they screamed and when they saw that they weren’t unlocking, now the bolts on the shutters were pulled without ceremony, but the bolts were so strong that they didn’t budge at all, they pulled the doors, and the doors from the inside were secured with an oak bolt. Then the whistlers took a log from the street, used it like a fireman to hook it under the roofing bar, and immediately tore the entire roof off the small house. But the roof was removed, and now they themselves collapsed, because the craftsmen in their cramped mansion became such a sweaty spiral from restless work in the air that it was impossible for an unaccustomed person with a fresh wind to breathe even once.
The ambassadors shouted:
“What are you bastards and such and such doing, and even dare to make mistakes with such a spiral!” Or after this there is no God in you!
And they answer:
“We’re hammering in the last nail now, and once we’ve hammered it in, then we’ll take out our work.”
And the ambassadors say:
“He will eat us alive before that hour and won’t leave our souls behind.”
But the masters answer:
“It won’t have time to swallow you up, because while you were talking here, we’ve already hammered in this last nail.” Run and say that we are carrying it now.
The whistlers ran, but not with confidence: they thought that the masters would deceive them; and therefore they run and run and look back; but the masters followed them and hurried so quickly that they didn’t even dress properly for the appearance of an important person, and as they walked they fastened the hooks in their caftans. Two of them had nothing in their hands, and the third, left-handed, had a royal box with an English steel flea in a green case.
The whistlers ran up to Platov and said:
- Here they are!
Platov now to the masters:
– Is it ready?
“Everything,” they answer, “is ready.”
- Give it here.
And the carriage is already harnessed, and the driver and postilion are in place. The Cossacks immediately sat down next to the coachman and raised their whips over him and waved them like that and held them.
Platov tore off the green cover, opened the box, took out a golden snuffbox from the cotton wool, and from the snuffbox a diamond nut - he saw: the English flea was lying there as it was, and besides it there was nothing else.
Platov says:
- What is this? Where is your work, with which you wanted to console the sovereign?
The gunsmiths replied:
- This is our job.
Platov asks:
– What does she involve herself in?
And the gunsmiths answer:
- Why explain this? Everything is here in your sight - and provide for it.
Platov raised his shoulders and shouted:
-Where is the key to the flea?
“And right there,” they answer, “Where there is a flea, there is a key, in one nut.”
Platov wanted to take the key, but his fingers were stubby: he caught and caught, but could not grab either the flea or the key to her abdominal plant, and suddenly he became angry and began to swear words in the Cossack manner.
- Why, you scoundrels, didn’t do anything, and even, perhaps, ruined the whole thing! I'll take your head off!
And the Tula people answered him:
- It’s in vain that you offend us like that - we, as the sovereign’s ambassador, must endure all insults from you, but only because you doubted us and thought that we were even capable of deceiving the sovereign’s name - we will not tell you the secret of our work now Let's say, if you please, take us to the sovereign - he will see what kind of people we are and whether he is ashamed of us.
And Platov shouted:
“Well, you’re lying, you scoundrels, I won’t part with you like that, and one of you will go with me to St. Petersburg, and I’ll try to find out what your tricks are.”
And with that, he reached out his hand, grabbed the barefoot left-hander by the collar with his knuckle fingers, so that all the hooks from his Cossack flew off, and threw him into the carriage at his feet.
“Sit,” he says, “here, all the way to St. Petersburg, it’s like a Pubel, - you will answer me for everyone.” And you,” he says to the whistlers, “now a guide!” Don’t miss the chance that the day after tomorrow I will visit the Emperor in St. Petersburg.
The masters only dared to say to him on behalf of his comrade: how can you take him away from us without any tugment? it will not be possible to follow him back! And Platov, instead of answering, showed them a fist - so terrible, lumpy and all chopped up, somehow fused together - and, threatening, said: “Here’s a tugament for you!” And he says to the Cossacks:
- Gaida, guys!
The Cossacks, coachmen and horses - everything worked at once and sped off the left-handed man without a tugament, and a day later, as Platov ordered, they rolled him up to the sovereign’s palace and even, having galloped properly, drove past the columns.
Platov stood up, put on his medals and went to the sovereign, and ordered the slanting left-handed Cossacks to stand guard at the entrance.
Platov was afraid to show himself to the sovereign, because Nikolai Pavlovich was terribly wonderful and memorable - he did not forget anything. Platov knew that he would certainly ask him about the flea. And at least he wasn’t afraid of any enemy in the world, but then he chickened out: he entered the palace with the box and quietly placed it in the hall behind the stove and placed it. Having hidden the box, Platov appeared in the sovereign’s office and quickly began to report on the kind of internecine conversations the Cossacks were having on the quiet Don. He thought like this: in order to occupy the sovereign with this, and then, if the sovereign himself remembers and starts talking about the flea, he must file and answer, and if he does not speak, then remain silent; Order the office valet to hide the box, and put the Tula left-handed man in a serf prison without time, so that he could sit there until time, if necessary.
But Emperor Nikolai Pavlovich did not forget about anything, and as soon as Platov finished talking about internecine conversations, he immediately asked him:
– Well, how did my Tula masters justify themselves against the English nymphosoria?
Platov answered as the matter seemed to him.
“Nymphosoria,” he says, “your majesty, is still in the same space, and I brought it back, and the Tula masters could not do anything more amazing.”
The Emperor replied:
“You are a courageous old man, and this cannot be what you are reporting to me.”
Platov began to assure him and told him how the whole thing happened, and how he went so far as to say that the Tula people asked him to show his flea to the sovereign, Nikolai Pavlovich patted him on the shoulder and said:
- Give it here. I know that my friends cannot deceive me. Something beyond the concept has been done here.
They took the box out from behind the stove, removed the cloth cover from it, opened the golden snuffbox and the diamond nut - and in it lay the flea, as it had been before and as it lay.
The Emperor looked and said:
- What a dashing thing! – But he did not diminish his faith in Russian masters, but ordered to call his beloved daughter Alexandra Nikolaevna and ordered her:
- You have thin fingers on your hands - take a small key and quickly start the abdominal machine in this nymphosorium.
The princess began to twist the key, and the flea now moved its antennae, but did not touch it with its legs. Alexandra Nikolaevna has pulled out the whole plant, but the nymphosoria still doesn’t dance or perform any dances, as before.
Platov turned green and shouted:
- Oh, they are dog scoundrels! Now I understand why they didn’t want to tell me anything there. It’s good that I took one of their fools with me.
With these words, he ran out to the entrance, caught the left-hander by the hair and began to toss him back and forth so that strands flew. And when Platov stopped beating him, he corrected himself and said:
“I’ve already had all my hair torn out during my studies, but now I don’t know why I need such repetition?”
“This is because,” says Platov, “I hoped and enlisted in you, but you ruined a rare thing.”
Lefty answers:
“We are very pleased that you vouched for us, and we didn’t spoil anything: take it, look through the strongest microscope.”
Platov ran back to tell him about the small scope, but only threatened the left-hander:
“I’ll ask you something like this,” he says.
And he ordered the whistlers to twist the left-handed man’s elbows back even tighter, while he himself climbs the steps, out of breath and reads the prayer: “Good Tsar’s good mother, most pure and pure,” and further, as necessary. And the courtiers who are standing on the steps all turn away from him, thinking: Platov has been caught and now they will drive him out of the palace - that’s why they could not stand him for his bravery.
As Platov conveyed Levshin’s words to the sovereign, he now joyfully says:
– I know that my Russian people will not deceive me. - And he ordered a small scope on the pillow.
At that very moment the microscope was handed over, and the sovereign took the flea and put it under the glass, first with its back up, then sideways, then with its belly - in a word, they turned it in all directions, but there was nothing to see. But the sovereign did not lose his faith here either, but only said:
“Bring this gunsmith down here to me now.”
Platov reports:
“We need to dress him up - he’s wearing what he was taken, and now he’s in a very angry state.”
And the sovereign answers:
– Nothing – enter it as it is.
Platov says:
“Now go yourself, so-and-so, and answer before the eyes of the sovereign.”
And the left-hander answers:
- Well, I’ll go like that and answer.
He walks in what he was wearing: in shorts, one trouser leg is in a boot, the other is dangling, and the collar is old, the hooks are not fastened, they are lost, and the collar is torn; but it’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.
“What is it? - thinks. “If the sovereign wishes to see me, I must go; and if I don’t have a tugament with me, then it’s not my fault and I’ll tell you why this happened.”
As the left-handed man stood up and bowed, the sovereign now said to him:
- What is it, brother, that means that we looked this way and that, and put it under a microscope, but we didn’t see anything remarkable?
And the left-hander answers:
“Is this how you, Your Majesty, deigned to look?”
The nobles nod at him: they say, that’s not what you’re saying! but he does not understand how to act like a courtier, with flattery or with cunning, but speaks simply.
The Emperor says:
“Leave him to split hairs; let him answer as best he can.”
And now I explained to him:
“This is how we put it,” he says, “and he put the flea under the microscope. “Look,” he says, “you can’t see anything.”
Lefty answers:
“That way, Your Majesty, it’s impossible to see anything, because our work against such a size is much more secret.”
The Emperor asked:
- How should it be?
“We need,” he says, “to put just one of her legs in detail under the entire microscope and look separately at each heel on which she steps.”
Have mercy, tell me,” says the sovereign, “this is already very petty!”
“But what can we do,” answers the left-hander, “if this is the only way our work can be noticed: then everything will be surprising.”
They laid it down as the left-hander said, and as soon as the sovereign looked at the top glass, he became all beaming - he took the left-hander, how unkempt and dusty he was, unwashed, hugged him and kissed him, and then turned to all the courtiers and said:
– You see, I knew better than anyone that my Russians would not deceive me. Look, please: they, the scoundrels, shoed the English flea into horseshoes!
Everyone began to come up and look: the flea really had all his feet shod with real horseshoes, and the left-handed man reported that this was not all that was surprising.
“If,” he says, “there was a better microscope, which magnifies five million times, then you would deign,” he says, “to see that on each horseshoe the artist’s name is displayed: which Russian master made that horseshoe.”
- And your name is there? - asked the sovereign.
“No way,” the left-handed man replies, “I’m the only one who doesn’t exist.”
- Why?
“And because,” he says, “I worked smaller than these horseshoes: I forged the nails with which the horseshoes are hammered - no small scope can take them there anymore.”
The Emperor asked:
- Where is your small scope with which you could produce this surprise?
And the left-hander replied:
- We are poor people and due to our poverty we do not have a small scope, but our eyes are so focused.
Then the other courtiers, seeing that the left-handed business had burned out, began to kiss him, and Platov gave him a hundred rubles and said:
- Forgive me, brother, for tearing your hair off.
Lefty answers:
“God will forgive.” This is not the first time that such snow has fallen on our heads.
But he didn’t say any more, and he had no time to talk to anyone, because the sovereign immediately ordered this savvy nymphosoria to be put to bed and sent back to England - like a gift, so that they would understand that this is not surprising to us. And the sovereign ordered that a special courier, who was trained in all languages, should carry the flea, and that a left-handed person should be with him, and that he himself could show the English the work and what kind of masters we have in Tula.
Platov baptized him.
“May there be a blessing upon you,” he says, “and I will send you my own sour milk for the road.” Don't drink little, don't drink too much, but drink moderately.
That's what I did - I sent it.
And Count Kiselvrode ordered that the left-hander be washed in the Tulyakovo public baths, cut his hair at the barbershop and dressed in a ceremonial caftan from a court singer, so that it would look as if he had some kind of paid rank.
How they dressed him up in such a manner, gave him tea with Platov’s sour milk for the journey, tied him with a belt as tightly as possible so that his intestines did not shake, and took him to London. From here, with the left-handed person, foreign types began.
The courier and the left-handed man traveled very quickly, so that from St. Petersburg to London they did not stop anywhere to rest, but only at each station they tightened their belts by one badge so that the intestines and lungs did not get mixed up; but as the left-handed man, after being presented to the sovereign, according to Platov’s order, was given a generous portion of wine from the treasury, he, without eating, supported himself with this alone and sang Russian songs throughout Europe, only he did the chorus in a foreign language: “Ai lyuli - se trezhuli "
As soon as the courier brought him to London, he appeared to the right person and gave the box, and put the left-handed man in a hotel room, but he soon became bored here, and he also wanted to eat. He knocked on the door and pointed to his mouth to the attendant, who then took him to the food reception room.
A left-hander sat down at the table and sat there, but he didn’t know how to ask something in English. But then he realized: again he simply taps the table with his finger and shows it to himself in his mouth - the English guess and serve, but not always what is needed, but he does not accept anything that is not suitable for him. They served him a hot stew of theirs on the fire, he said: “I don’t know that you can eat such a thing,” and did not eat; They changed him and gave him another dish. Also, I didn’t drink their vodka, because it was green - it looked like it was filled with vitriol, but I chose what was most natural, and waited for the courier in the cool behind the eggplant.
And those people to whom the courier handed over the nymphosoria immediately examined it with the strongest microscope and now the description is included in the public gazette, so that tomorrow the slander will be publicly known.
“And now we want to see this master himself,” they say.
The courier escorted them to the room, and from there to the food reception hall, where our left-hander was already quite browned, and said: “Here he is!”
The British now slap the left-hander on the shoulder and, as an equal, by the hands. “Comrade,” they say, “comrade is a good master, we’ll talk to you in due course, later, and now we’ll drink to your well-being.”
They asked for a lot of wine, and left-hander the first glass, but he politely did not drink first: he thought, maybe you want to poison him out of annoyance.
“No,” he says, “this is not order: and there is no owner in Poland anymore, eat in advance yourself.”
The English tasted all the wines before him and then they began to pour him some. He stood up, crossed himself with his left hand and drank health to them all.
They noticed that he crossed himself with his left hand, and asked the courier:
– What is he, a Lutheran or a Protestant?
The courier answers:
– No, he is not a Lutheran or a Protestant, but of the Russian faith.
- Why does he cross himself with his left hand?
Courier said:
– He is left-handed and does everything with his left hand.
The British began to be even more surprised - and began to drug both the left-hander and the courier with wine, and did so for three whole days, and then they said: “Now that’s enough.” After a symphony of water with erfix they took it and, completely refreshed, began to question the left-hander: where did he and what did he study and how long has he known arithmetic?
Lefty answers:
– Our science is simple: but the Psalter and the Half-Dream Book, and we don’t know arithmetic at all.
The English looked at each other and said:
- This is amazing.
And Lefty answers them:
– It’s like this everywhere here.
“What is this book,” they ask, “in Russia, “The Half-Dream Book”?
“This,” he says, “is a book that relates to the fact that if in the Psalter King David vaguely revealed something about fortune-telling, then in the Half-Dream Book they guess the addition.”
They say:
- This is a pity, it would be better if you knew at least four rules of addition from arithmetic, then it would be much more useful for you than the entire Half-Dream Book. Then you could realize that in every machine there is a calculation of force; Otherwise, you are very skillful in your hands, but you didn’t realize that such a small machine, like the one in the nymphosoria, is designed for the most accurate precision and cannot carry its shoes. Because of this, the nymphosoria now does not jump and does not dance.
Lefty agreed.
“There is no doubt about this,” he says, “that we are not too deep in the sciences, but only loyal to our fatherland.”
And the British tell him:
“Stay with us, we will impart great education to you, and you will become an amazing master.”
But the left-hander did not agree to this.
“I have parents at home,” he says.
The British called themselves to send money to his parents, but the left-handed man did not take it.
“We,” he says, “are committed to our homeland, and my little one is already an old man, and my mother is an old woman and is used to going to church in her parish, and it will be very boring for me here alone, because I am still single.”
“You,” they say, “get used to it, accept our law, and we will marry you.”
“This,” answered the left-handed man, “can never happen.”
- Why is that?
“Because,” he answers, “that our Russian faith is the most correct, and as our right-wingers believed, our descendants should believe just as surely.”
“You,” say the English, “don’t know our faith: we adhere to the same Christian law and the same Gospel.”
“The Gospel,” the left-hander answers, “really is the same for everyone, but our books are thicker than yours, and our faith is more complete.”
- Why can you judge it this way?
“We have all the obvious evidence of this,” he answers.
“And such,” he says, “that we have idolatrous icons and grave-like heads and relics, but you have nothing, and even, except for one Sunday, there are no special holidays, and for the second reason - me and an Englishwoman, even though I got married in law, he will live in embarrassment.
- Why is this so? - they ask. – Don’t neglect it: ours also dress very cleanly and are economical.
And the left-hander says:
– I don’t know them.
The British answer:
- It doesn’t matter the point - you can find out: we’ll make you a grand deva.
Lefty was ashamed.
“Why,” he says, “it’s in vain to fool the girls.” - And he refused. “Grandevu,” he says, “this is the master’s business, but it doesn’t suit us, and if they find out about this back home in Tula, they will make a big mockery of me.”
The British were curious:
“And if,” they say, “there is no grand devo, then what do you do in such cases in order to make a pleasant choice?”
Lefty explained our situation to them.
“With us,” he says, “when a person wants to discover a detailed intention about a girl, he sends a conversational woman, and as she makes an excuse, then they go into the house together politely and look at the girl without hiding, but with all the kinship.”
They understood, but answered that they don’t have conversational women and this is not the custom, and the left-hander says:
- This is all the more pleasant, because if you do something like this, you need to do it with a thorough intention, but since I don’t feel this way for a foreign nation, why fool the girls?
The British liked him in these judgments, so they again went to slap his shoulders and knees with pleasure with their palms, and they themselves asked:
“We would,” they say, “just out of curiosity, would like to know: what vicious signs have you noticed in our girls and why are you running around them?”
Here the left-hander already answered them frankly:
“I’m not discrediting them, but I just don’t like the fact that their clothes are somehow flapping around, and you can’t tell what they’re wearing and for what purpose; there’s one thing here, and something else is pinned down below, and there are some boots on his hands. Just like a sapazhu monkey - a corduroy talma.
The English laughed and said:
– What obstacle do you have in this?
“There are no obstacles,” the left-hander replies, “I’m just afraid that it will be a shame to watch and wait as she figures it all out.”
“Is it really,” they say, “your style is better?”
“Our style,” he answers, “in Tula is simple: everyone wears their lace, and even big ladies wear our lace.”
They showed it to their ladies too, and there they poured tea for him and asked:
- Why are you wincing?
He answered that he said that we were not accustomed to sweetness.
Then they served him a bite in Russian.
It seems to them that it’s worse, but he says:
– For our taste, it tastes better.
The British couldn’t do anything to tempt him into falling for their life, but they only persuaded him to stay for a short time, and during that time they would take him around different factories and show him all their art.
“And then,” they say, “we will bring him on our ship and deliver him alive to St. Petersburg.”
He agreed to this.
The British took the left-hander into their own hands, and sent the Russian courier back to Russia. Although the courier had a rank and was trained in various languages, they were not interested in him, but were interested in the left-handed person - and they went to take the left-handed person and show him everything. He looked at all their production: metal factories and soap and saw factories, and he really liked all their economic procedures, especially regarding the maintenance of workers. Every worker they have is constantly well-fed, dressed not in rags, but each wearing a capable vest, shod in thick boots with iron knobs, so that his feet won’t get hurt anywhere; he works not with boilies, but with training and has ideas for himself. In front of everyone hangs a multiplication dot in plain view, and under his hand is an erasable board: all the master does is look at the dot and check it with the concept, and then he writes one thing on the board, erases another and puts it together neatly: what is written on the numbers is and in fact it turns out. And when the holiday comes, they will gather in pairs, take a stick in their hands and go for a walk in a decorous and noble manner, as they should.
Lefty looked at all their lives and all their work, but most of all he paid attention to such an Object that the British were very surprised. He was less interested in how new guns were made than in what form the old ones were in. He goes around and praises everything and says:
- We can do this too.
And when he gets to the old gun, he puts his finger in the barrel, runs along the walls and sighs:
“This,” he says, “is far superior to ours.”
The British could not guess what the left-handed person was noticing, and he asked:
“Can’t I,” he says, “know whether our generals ever looked at this or not?”
They tell him:
“Those who were here must have been watching.”
“What,” he says, “were they wearing gloves or without gloves?”
“Your generals,” they say, “are ceremonial, they always wear gloves; That means it was like that here too.
Lefty didn't say anything. But suddenly he began to feel restlessly bored. He became sad and sad and said to the English:
“Humblely thank me throughout the meal, and I’m very pleased with everything you have and I’ve already seen everything I needed to see, and now I’d rather go home.”
There was no way they could hold him any longer. It was impossible to let him go on land, because he didn’t know all the languages, and it was not good to sail on water, because it was autumn, stormy, but he insisted: let him go.
“We looked at the storm gauge,” they say, “and there will be a storm, you might drown; It’s not like you have the Gulf of Finland, but here is the real Solid Earth Sea.
“It’s all the same,” he answers, “where to die, everything is the only thing, God’s will, but I want to go to my native place as soon as possible, because otherwise I might get a form of insanity.”
They did not restrain him by force: they fed him, rewarded him with money, gave him a gold watch with a trembler as a souvenir, and for the coolness of the sea on the late autumn journey they gave him a flannelette coat with a wind cap over his head. They dressed him very warmly and took the left-hander to the ship that was heading to Russia. Here they placed the left-hander in the best possible way, like a real master, but he did not like to sit with the other gentlemen in the closet and was ashamed, but would go on deck, sit down under the gift and ask: “Where is our Russia?”
The Englishman he asks will point his hand in that direction or wave his head, but he turns his face there and looks impatiently in his native direction.
As soon as they left the bay into the Solid Earth Sea, his desire for Russia became such that it was impossible to calm him down. The flooding has become terrible, and the left-handed man still doesn’t go down to the cabins - he sits under the gift, pulls his cap down and looks towards his fatherland.
Many times the English came to a warm place to call him down, but so as not to be bothered, he even began to lash out.
“No,” he answers, “I feel better outside here; Otherwise the swaying will turn into a guinea pig under my roof.
So all the time he didn’t go until a special occasion, and because of this, one half-skipper really liked him, who, to the grief of our left-hander, knew how to speak Russian. This half-skipper could not be surprised that the Russian landman could withstand all the bad weather.
“Well done,” he says, “Rus!” Let's have a drink!
Lefty drank.
And the half-skipper says:
Lefty drank some more and got drunk.
The half-skipper asks him:
– What secret are you bringing from our state to Russia?
Lefty answers:
- This is my business.
“And if so,” answered the half-skipper, “then let’s keep the English bet with you.”
Lefty asks:
- So that you don’t drink anything alone, but drink everything in equal parts: what one person does, the other one will certainly drink too, and whoever drinks too much will get the same.
The left-hander thinks: the sky is cloudy, his belly is heaving, - there is great boredom, and the route is long, and you can’t see your home place behind the wave - it will still be more fun to keep a bet.
“Okay,” he says, “he’s coming!”
- Just to be honest.
“Yes, that’s it,” he says, “don’t worry.”
They agreed and shook hands.
Their bet began back in the Solid Earth Sea, and they drank all the way to Riga's Dynaminde, but they kept walking on an equal footing and were not inferior to each other and were so neatly equal that when one, looking into the sea, saw the devil climbing out of the water, so now the same thing was announced to the other. Only the half-skipper sees the red devil, and the left-hander says that he is as dark as a murine.
Lefty says:
- Cross yourself and turn away - this is the devil from the abyss.
And the Englishman argues that “this is a sea diver.”
“Do you want,” he says, “I’ll throw you into the sea?” Don't be afraid - he'll give you back to me now.
And the left-hander answers:
- If so, then throw it.
The half-skipper picked him up and carried him to the side.
The sailors saw this, stopped them and reported to the captain, and he ordered them both to be locked downstairs and given rum and wine and cold food so that they could drink and eat and stand their bet - and not serve them hot water with fire, because the alcohol in their guts can ignite.
So they were brought locked up to St. Petersburg, and not one of them won the bet against each other; and then they laid them out on different carts and took the Englishman to the envoy’s house on Aglitskaya Embankment, and the left-hander to the quarter.
From here their fates began to differ greatly.
As soon as the Englishman was brought to the embassy house, they immediately called a doctor and a pharmacist to see him. The doctor ordered him to be put into a warm bath with him, and the pharmacist immediately rolled up a gutta-percha pill and put it in his mouth, and then they both took it together and put it on the feather bed and covered it with a fur coat and left it to sweat, and so that no one would bother him, throughout The embassy was given an order that no one should dare to sneeze. The doctor and the pharmacist waited until the half-skipper fell asleep, and then they prepared another gutta-percha pill for him, placed it on the table near his head and left.
And they knocked the left-hander down on the floor in the block and asked:
– Who is this and where are they from, and do you have a passport or any other document?
And he was so weak from illness, from drinking and from the long thrashing that he didn’t answer a word, but only moaned.
Then they searched him, they took off his motley dress, his watch with a chime, and they took his money, and the bailiff ordered him to be sent to the hospital for free in an oncoming cab.
The policeman took the left-handed man onto the sled, but for a long time he could not catch a single oncoming person, so the cab drivers ran away from the police. And the left-hander was lying on the cold paratha all the time; then the policeman caught a cab driver, only without a warm fox, because this time they hide the fox in the sleigh under themselves so that the policemen’s feet would quickly get cold. They were transporting a left-handed man so uncovered, and when they started transferring him from one cab to another, they would drop everything, but when they started picking him up, they would tear his ears so that he would remember.
They brought him to one hospital - they wouldn’t admit him without a certificate, they brought him to another - and they wouldn’t admit him there, and so on to the third, and to the fourth - until the morning they dragged him through all the remote crooked paths and kept changing them, so that he was completely beaten up. Then one doctor told the policeman to take him to the common people's Obukhvin hospital, where everyone of an unknown class is admitted to die.
Then they ordered me to give a receipt, and to put the left-handed person on the floor in the corridor until they were dismantled.
And the English half-skipper at this very time got up the next day, swallowed another gutta-percha pill into his gut, ate chicken with lynx for a light breakfast, washed it down with Erfix and said:
– Where is my Russian comrade? I'll go look for him.
I got dressed and ran.
In an amazing way, the half-skipper somehow very soon found the left-handed man, only they had not yet put him on the bed, but he was lying on the floor in the corridor and complaining to the Englishman.
“I would definitely like to say two words to the sovereign,” he says.
The Englishman ran to Count Kleinmichel and made a noise:
- Is that possible? “Even though he has a sheep’s fur coat,” he says, “he has the soul of a man.”
The Englishman is now out of there for this reasoning, so that he does not dare to remember the soul of the little man. And then someone said to him: “You’d better go to the Cossack Platov - he has simple feelings.”
The Englishman reached Platov, who was now lying on the couch again. Platov listened to him and remembered about the left-hander.
“Why, brother,” he says, “I know him very briefly, I even tore him by the hair, but I don’t know how to help him in such an unfortunate time; because I’ve already completed my service and received full publicity - now they don’t respect me anymore - and you run quickly to Commandant Skobelev, he is capable and also experienced in this area, he will do something.
The half-skipper went to Skobelev and told him everything: what illness the left-hander had and why it happened. Skobelev says:
“I understand this disease, but the Germans cannot treat it, but here we need some doctor from the clergy, because they grew up in these examples and can help; I will now send the Russian doctor Martyn-Solsky there.
But only when Martyn-Solsky arrived, the left-hander was already finished, because the back of his head was split on the paratha, and he could only say one thing clearly:
“Tell the sovereign that the British don’t clean their guns with bricks: let them not clean ours either, otherwise, God bless war, they’re not good for shooting.”
And with this fidelity, the left-hander crossed himself and died. Martyn-Solsky immediately went, reported this to Count Chernyshev in order to bring it to the sovereign, and Count Chernyshev shouted at him:
“Know,” he says, “your emetic and laxative, and don’t interfere with your own business: in Russia there are generals for that.”
The Emperor was never told, and the purge continued until the Crimean campaign. At that time, they began to load guns, and the bullets dangled in them, because the barrels were cleared with bricks.
Here Martyn-Solsky reminded Chernyshev about being left-handed, and Count Chernyshev said:
“Go to hell, you pleisry tube, don’t interfere with your own business, otherwise I’ll confess that I never heard about this from you, and you’ll get it too.”
Martyn-Solsky thought: “He’ll really open up,” and remained silent.
And if they had brought the words of the Left to the attention of the sovereign in due time, the war with the enemy in Crimea would have taken a completely different turn.
Now all these are already “things of bygone days”: and “legends of antiquity”, although not deep, but there is no need to rush to forget these legends, despite the fabulous nature of the legend and the epic character of its main character. Lefty's own name, like the names of many of the greatest geniuses, is forever lost to posterity; but as a myth personified by popular fantasy, he is interesting, and his adventures can serve as a memory of an era, the general spirit of which is accurately and accurately captured.
Such masters as the fabulous left-hander, of course, are no longer in Tula: machines have leveled the inequality of talents and gifts, and genius is not eager to fight against diligence and accuracy. While they favor an increase in earnings, machines do not favor artistic prowess, which sometimes exceeded the limit, inspiring popular imagination to compose fabulous legends similar to the current one.
Workers, of course, know how to appreciate the benefits brought to them by the practical devices of mechanical science, but they remember the old days with pride and love. This is their epic, and with a very “human soul.”
"Lefty"(full title: " The Tale of the Tula Oblique Lefty and the Steel Flea") is a story by Nikolai Leskov, written and published in 1881.
“Lefty” summary by chapter
Chapter 1
When the Vienna Council ended, Emperor Alexander wanted to “travel around Europe and see wonders in different states.” Alexander was a sociable person, talked to everyone, was interested in everything. With him was the Don Cossack Platov, “who did not like this declination and, missing his household, kept beckoning the sovereign home.” And when the tsar notices something outlandish, he says that there are no worse things in Rus'. And the British came up with various tricks for the arrival of the sovereign, “in order to captivate him with his foreignness,” and agreed with Alexander the next day to go to the armory of the Kunstkamera. Platov did not like this, so “he ordered the orderly to bring a flask of Caucasian vodka-sour from the cellar,” but he did not argue with the tsar, he thought: “The morning is wiser than the night.”
Chapter 2
The next day they arrived at the Kunstkamera - “a large building - an indescribable entrance, endless corridors.” The emperor looked at Platov, but he didn’t bat an eyelid. The British showed all their goods, and the king was happy for them and asked Platov why he was so insensitive. The Cossack replied that “my fellow Don people fought without all this and drove away twelve people.” And the foreigners said:
This is a pistol of unknown, inimitable craftsmanship...
Alexander marveled at the thing, and then gave it to Platov so that he could admire it too. He picked the lock and read the Russian inscription on the fold: “Ivan Moskvin in the city of Tula.” The British gasped that they had missed. And the king felt sorry for them for such an “embarrassment.”
Chapter 3
The next day they went again to look at the Kunstkamera. Platov kept calling the Tsar home and making fun of foreigners, and Alexander said to him: “Please don’t spoil politics for me.” They were brought to the last cabinet of curiosities, where there was everything, “from the largest Egyptian ceramide to the skin flea.” It seems that the sovereign is not surprised by anything, and Platov feels calm and joyful about this.
Suddenly the king is presented with a gift on an empty tray. Alexander is perplexed, and the British ask him to take the smallest speck on the tray into his palm. This, it turns out, is a metal flea, for which there is even a key to wind it up, and then it will “go dancing.” The Emperor immediately gave away a million for such a miracle. Platov was very annoyed, because the British “gave a gift”, and he had to pay for it. And Alexander only repeated that he should not spoil politics for him. He put the flea in a diamond nut, and then in his golden snuffbox. And he praised the British: “You are the first masters in the whole world...” And Platov secretly took a small scope and put it in his pocket. They were driving to Russia, looking in different directions along the way and not talking.
Chapter 4
In Russia, after Alexander’s death, none of the courtiers understood what to do with this flea; they even wanted to throw it away. But the king forbade it. Here, by the way, Platov said: “It’s true, Your Majesty, that the work is very subtle and interesting, but we shouldn’t be surprised by this with pure delight of feelings, but we should subject it to Russian revisions in Tula or Sesterbek - then Sestroretsk They called it Sisterbek, - can’t our masters surpass this, so that the British do not exalt themselves over the Russians.” Nikolai Pavlovich agreed, hoping that the Russian masters would be no worse.
Chapter 5
Platov took the steel flea and went to the Tula gunsmiths. The men agreed that the thing was cunningly made, and promised Platov that they would come up with something before his arrival from the Don: “We ourselves don’t know what we will do, but we will only hope in God, and perhaps the king’s word will not be put to shame for our sake.” will". Platov was not satisfied with this answer, but there was nothing to do. He only warned that the craftsmen should not spoil the fine work.
Chapter 6
Platov left, and the three best masters, one of them a slanting left-hander, who “has a birthmark on his cheek, and the hair on his temples was torn out during training,” said goodbye to their comrades and went into the forest towards Kyiv. Many even thought that they wanted to hide with all this good (the king’s golden snuffbox, a diamond), but “however, such an assumption was also completely unfounded and unworthy of skilled people, on whom the hope of the nation now rested.”
Chapter 7
Tula people are described. Tula is smart, knowledgeable in metal work, and very religious. The Tula people's faith and skill help them build magnificently beautiful cathedrals.
The masters did not go to Kyiv, but “to Mtsensk, to the district city of the Oryol province,” where the icon of St. Nicholas, the patron saint of trade and military affairs, is located. “They served a prayer service at the icon itself, then at the stone cross, and finally they returned home at night, and, without telling anyone, they set to work in terrible secrecy.” They all sat in the left-handed man's house, the shutters were closed, the doors were locked. For three days they sat without leaving, “not seeing or talking to anyone.”
Chapter 8
Platov arrived in Tula and sent people to work. Yes, I’m curious myself and can’t wait to see it.
Chapter 9
The Tula craftsmen have almost completed their work, the last screw remains to be screwed in, and they are already banging on their doors and screaming. The masters promise to bring it soon. And indeed, they came out - two of them had nothing in their hands, and the left-handed one was carrying the royal casket.
Chapter 10
They gave the box to Platov. I got into the carriage and was curious myself, so I decided to take a look, and when I opened it, the flea was still there. He asked the tired craftsmen what the problem was. And they say: “See for yourself.” Platov did not see anything, got angry and shouted at them, saying that they had ruined such a thing. They were offended by him and said that they would not reveal the secret of what their work was because he did not trust them. And Platov took the left-handed man into his carriage and took him away without a “tugament”.
Chapter 11
Platov was afraid that the king would remember the flea. Indeed, as soon as he arrived, the king ordered it to be served immediately. And Platov says: “Nymphosoria is still in the same space.” To which the king replied: “I know that my people cannot deceive me. Something has been done here beyond the pale.”
Chapter 12
They pulled out the flea, the tsar called his daughter Alexandra Nikolaevna so that she could wind the flea with her thin fingers. But the flea doesn't dance. Then Platov grabbed the left-handed man and began to pull him by the hair, and the workman said that they had not spoiled anything and asked him to bring “the most powerful small scope.”
Chapter 13
The Emperor is confident that the Russian people will not let him down. They bring a microscope. The king looked and ordered the left-handed man to be brought to him. Lefty, all in torn clothes, “without tugament,” came to the king. Nikolai says he looked, but didn’t see anything. And the left-hander replies: “You just need to bring one of her legs under the entire microscope in detail and look separately at each heel she steps on.” Everyone did just that. The king looked and beamed, hugged the dirty left-hander and said that he was sure that he would not be let down. After all, they shoed the English flea!
Chapter 14
Everyone looked into the microscope and also began to hug the left-hander. And Platov apologized to him, gave him a hundred rubles and ordered him to wash him in the bathhouse and get his hair done at the hairdresser. They made him into a decent man with a decent appearance and took him to London.
Chapter 15
The courier brought a left-handed man, put him in a hotel room, and took the box with the flea where it needed to be. The left-hander wanted to eat. They took him to the “food reception room.” But he refused to eat their food and “is waiting for the courier in the cool behind the eggplant.” Meanwhile, the British looked at the flea and immediately wanted to see the master. The courier takes them to the left-handed man’s room, “the English clap, clap him on the shoulder...” and praise him.
They drank wine together for four days, then, moving away, they began to ask the Tula master where he studied. The left-hander replies: “Our science is simple: according to the Psalter and the Half-Dream Book, but we don’t know arithmetic at all.” Foreigners are surprised and invite him to stay with them, “learn education,” marry and accept their faith. Lefty refuses: “... our Russian faith is the most correct, and just as our right-handers believed, our descendants should believe just as well.” They only persuaded him to stay for a short time, and then they themselves would take him on their ship to St. Petersburg.
Chapter 16
Lefty “looked at all their production: metal factories, soap and saw factories, and all their economic procedures he really liked, especially regarding the maintenance of workers. Every worker they have is constantly well-fed, dressed not in rags, but everyone is wearing a capable vest... " He liked everything, and he sincerely praised everyone. But he somehow wanted to go home - he had no strength, and the British had to take him to Russia. They dressed him properly, gave him money and sent him on a ship. And all the time he looked into the distance and asked: “Where is our Russia?” And then the half-skipper and I started drinking all the way to the Riga Dynaminde.
Chapter 17
They got so drunk that they started getting rowdy. The captain even wanted to throw the left-handed man overboard, but the sailors saw him, reported to the captain, and then locked him up separately. They were taken like this to St. Petersburg, and then “the Englishman was taken to the messenger house on Aglitskaya Embankment, and the left-hander was taken to the quarter. From here their fates began to differ greatly.”
Chapter 18
As soon as the Englishman was brought to the embassy, a doctor came to him, a warm bath, and a “gutta-percha pill.” And the left-hander in the neighborhood was knocked down and began to demand documents, but he weakened and could not answer anything. He lay in the sleigh for a long time in the cold while they were looking for which hospital to place him in. No hospital accepts anyone without documents, so they took him until the morning. “Then one doctor told the policeman to take him to the common people’s hospital in Obukhvinsk, where everyone from an unknown class is admitted to die.”
But the Englishman had already recovered and ran to look for the left-hander.
Chapter 19
The skipper quickly found his Russian comrade when he was almost dying. Lefty told him: “I definitely need to say two words to the sovereign.” The Englishman contacted many people, but everyone refused to help, even Platov said: “... I don’t know how to help him in such an unfortunate time; because I’ve already completed my service and received full publicity - now they don’t respect me anymore...” And only Commandant Skobelev called doctor Martyn-Solsky to see the left-handed man. And he, poor thing, with his last breath said to him: “Tell the sovereign that the British don’t clean their guns with bricks: let them not clean ours either, otherwise, God bless war, they’re not good for shooting.” He crossed himself and died. Martyn-Solsky went to Count Chernyshev with this news, and he: “Know your emetics and laxatives, and don’t interfere with your own business: in Russia there are generals for that.
And if they had brought the Leftist’s words to the sovereign in due time, the war with the enemy in Crimea would have taken a completely different turn.”
Chapter 20
All these were things of the past. The name of the left-hander is lost, like the names of “many of the greatest geniuses,” but the era is reflected aptly and correctly. There are no such masters left in Tula anymore. Workers, of course, know how to appreciate the benefits of mechanical science, but they remember the old days with pride and love.
