Bakulin Gerasim Ivanovich hero of the civil war. Explanations and additions to the publication. The situation in the occupied territories

Kurin Gerasim Matveevich, organizer and leader of a large peasant partisan detachment during the Patriotic War of 1812; serf peasant. After the capture of the city of Bogorodsk by Napoleonic troops (September 23), he created a detachment from the peasants of the Vokhnovskaya volost (5300 foot and 500 cavalry), brought the head of Vokhnovsky E. S. Stulov and the centenary I. Ya. Chushkin to the command and established contact with the head of the Vladimir people's militia Prince B. A. Golitsyn. From September 23 to October 2, the detachment had seven clashes with Napoleonic troops. K. was awarded the badge of the Military Order (soldier's Cross of St. George).

Gerasim Matveevich Kurin (1777 - June 2, 1850) - leader of a peasant partisan detachment that operated during the Patriotic War of 1812 in the Vokhonsky volost (the area of ​​​​the present city of Pavlovsky Posad, Moscow region).
Thanks to the historian Alexander Mikhailovsky-Danilevsky, wide public attention was attracted to Kurin’s detachment. He was awarded the St. George Cross, first class.
In 1962, a street in Moscow was named after Gerasim Kurin (Gerasim Kurin Street).
Monument to the famous partisan of 1812 Gerasim Kurin. It is located behind Vokhna, opposite the bell tower of the Resurrection Cathedral. Here, under his leadership, the largest partisan formation in Russia was created. Untrained, almost unarmed peasants were able not only to resist the selected dragoons of Marshal Ney, but also to become winners in this confrontation... Near the village of Bolshoy Dvor, one of the French detachments clashed with local residents. In a short skirmish that ended with the flight of the confused enemy, the peasants acquired not only captured weapons, but also confidence in their abilities. The peasant partisans fought continuously for seven days. But there were losses, there were victories. Kurin's detachment, which initially consisted of two hundred people, after 5-6 days numbered almost 5-6 thousand, of which almost 500 were mounted and all were local. The short guerrilla war, just a week, brought significant damage. The partisans managed to block the path to Vladimir, and it is still unknown where Marshal Ney’s military career would have ended if he had not missed the Kuro partisans, who entered Bogorodsk immediately after the French retreat, in just a few hours. This event took place on October 1 (14), on the Intercession of the Virgin Mary.
Gerasim Kurin was a man of personal charm and quick intelligence, an outstanding commander of the peasant uprising. And - most importantly - for some reason everyone obeyed him, although he was practically a serf. (Although this is strange, because in the village of Pavlovskoye, it seems, there were no serfs).

NINA KATAEVA

Tolstoy's image of the “club” people's war" from "War and Peace" in our minds is firmly associated with the name of Gerasim Kurin, one of the Heroes of the Patriotic War of 1812, whose name is immortalized on the marble plaque of the gallery of military glory in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. Kurin was the leader of a peasant partisan detachment of 5,300 foot soldiers and 500 horse soldiers, operating in the Vokhonsky volost (the area of ​​​​present-day Pavlovsky Posad in the Moscow region). Streets are named after Gerasim Matveevich - in Moscow, near Poklonnaya Gora, and in his hometown. In Pavlovsky Posad, everyone will show you a monument to the hero.
1812 – 2012. In the homeland of Gerasim Kurin - Gerasim Kurin.Gerasim Kurin.
The Deputy Director of the Pavlovo-Posad Museum of History and Art, Candidate of Historical Sciences, Associate Professor of the Pavlovo-Posad Branch of the Russian international academy tourism Irina USHAKOVA.

– Irina Konstantinovna, what happened in these places 200 years ago?

Monument to Gerasim Kurin in Pavlovsky Posad.

It seems to me that the monument is completely idiotic))) With some kind of stupid ax))) As a descendant of Gerasim Kurin, the Administration of the city of Pavlovsky Posad invited me to the opening of this monument))) I was so slightly freaked out when the headscarf was pulled off the monument) ))

– After Napoleon’s troops occupied Moscow, regular units of the French army set off in the footsteps of the Russians, who were allegedly retreating towards Vladimir. This was a maneuver by Kutuzov, who created the appearance of the army retreating to the east, but in fact turned south to protect, in particular, the Tula region, where there were weapons factories and large food supplies. Tula was the breadbasket of Russia, and it was necessary to block the path of Napoleonic troops to the south so that they would not plunder the rich provinces. At this time, the French army entered Bogorodsk (now Noginsk), and Marshal Ney’s regiment settled there. From here they conducted reconnaissance, since the issue of food and fodder for army horses was acute. The French army found itself in starvation isolation, because the Russian troops, when they retreated, destroyed food. Foraging detachments as part of Marshal Ney's regiment tried to collect food from the surrounding villages, wondering at the same time - where did such a large Russian army go? And one day the foragers came to the village of Vokhna - after the name of the river, now in this place is the central part of Pavlovsky Posad - Revolution Square.

It must be said that this was the name of the village in the 14th–15th centuries, when these lands were owned by Moscow princes, and during the time of Ivan the Terrible, the lands were transferred to the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, and the peasants became monasteries. And at this moment, at the turn of the 16th–17th centuries, a double name appears in all documents and scribe books - Vokhna, and in brackets - Pavlovo, or vice versa. Most likely, the name of the land manager from the monastery was Pavel, and to make it clear which village we were talking about, they began to write that way. The name stuck: the Vokhon volost included the village of Pavlovo and other villages. And in 1844, by decree of Nicholas I, the village of Pavlovo and the surrounding villages of Zakharovo, Melenki, Dubrovo and Usovo were transferred to a posad with a common name - Pavlovsky Posad. By this time, a craft settlement had developed here.

In 1812, the village of Pavlovo (Vokhna) was very rich, and this is due to the fact that there was no serfdom here. Under Catherine II, all church lands were transferred to the state, and the peasants became state owned. The landowner peasants performed corvée, quitrent, and constantly worked for the landowner; it was simpler for the state peasants, since no one really watched them. They established a tax - how much natural product and money to hand over, but how it would be earned, the state was not interested, the main thing was to pay the tax on time. Therefore, crafts were actively developing here already in the 17th century, mainly weaving. The local peasants were wealthy, solid people, in almost every house there were weaving mills, some produced threads, others produced fabrics - wool, silk, cotton, linen, the widest range. All this came true at fairs, fortunately, Moscow, Nizhny Novgorod, and Vladimir were nearby.

The French, of course, scouted all this out and came to the state village. But they came with counterfeit money - Napoleon, to undermine the Russian economy, printed many counterfeits. And they said: “We won’t rob you, we will buy everything from you, give us bread, hay, milk, flour.” But the peasants were not satisfied with the promises, and they refused the French. There were several skirmishes, and at first we were lucky: we managed to take the foragers by surprise, and they felt their strength. Moreover, they got some living - a horse and cart, they grabbed some uniforms, and the thought immediately arose: “Oh, what a good fight, what a profit and income!” And the French walked in beautiful uniforms, in boots, which not every local could buy for themselves. And at the time when Marshal Ney’s warriors reported about the aggressive peasants, they gathered in the village of Pavlov and decided to create a self-defense detachment. Guerrilla ambush.
After several days of skirmishes, the leaders of the militia, Gerasim Kurin and Yegor Stulov, went to Vladimir, where the people’s militia division under the leadership of Prince Golitsyn was located. They reported on the situation, and the leadership of the Moscow militia sent staff captain Bogdansky with detachments of Pavlograd hussars and Cossacks to the village of Pavlovo. They helped the militia a lot. The main battle took place on the Day of the Intercession, October 1, 1812, when Ney sent a punitive detachment here. He thought that the men were alone here, and the French would quickly crush them. And, if there had been no help, the peasants would probably have been defeated. Well, how much can a man with an ax and pitchfork, a hunting rifle and some weapons seized from the French? The main skirmish took place opposite the bell tower of the Resurrection Cathedral, on the opposite high bank of the Vokhna, where the village of Pavlovo was located. The French approached the village along Pervomaiskaya Street, from the direction of present-day Elektrostal and Noginsk. The peasants met them at the bridge over the Vokhna. Realizing that a large detachment was coming and this could end badly, the men resorted to a trick: they decided to pretend to be peaceful and lure the French into the village territory. They said: “Yes, we will sell you everything, you will take flour from this estate, and with the cart, let’s go to another estate, there is a haystack, and then you will go home and get some bread and potatoes.” In general, they took this entire detachment to the surrounding courtyards, where the Pavlograd residents were sitting in ambush, and attacked the French. But they were rebuffed - the regular army fought in earnest, even if they were taken by surprise. In addition, the French were cautious, and at some point the men were forced to flee. But then the hussars jumped out of the ambush, and the enemy was defeated. The men became bolder, and, gathering their strength, they followed the Frenchman, saying: “Since they were afraid of us, we will now drive them out of Bogorodsk.” But just at that moment Ney received an order from Napoleon to retreat; the emperor decided to leave Moscow because he understood that spending the winter in a city that was on fire and where there was no food was murder. He decided to look for new battles with Kutuzov, and after Moscow there was a major battle near Maloyaroslavets, when Napoleon tried to break into the southern regions. He went to Tula, where Kutuzov met him and forced him to walk back along the old Smolensk road - through hungry places.

It must be said that the term “Battle of Vokhon” appeared recently, when in Pavlovsky Posad they began to reconstruct a major clash between peasants and the French. Up to a thousand people could take part in the battle. Of these, it is known that there were 40 sabers of Pavlograd residents and Cossacks. In total, the self-defense unit consisted of about 4 thousand people, they were dispersed in different places, guarded other villages in the surrounding area.

– Could you describe the appearance of Gerasim Kurin and his closest associates? What was his fate in the future?

– Gerasim Kurin was a young peasant, 25 years old, a man in the prime of his life, because in those days peasants became independent early. As contemporaries describe, he was very savvy, strong, strong-willed, active, and, apparently, it was for these qualities that he was nominated to lead the militia. Egor Stulov, as a volost elder, resolved issues of economic support for the army, and Ivan Chushkin, in the small rank of sotsky, led a hundred. Each of them fulfilled their role in the militia, all three were awarded the Cross of St. George. They were at a reception with the emperor in Moscow. Gerasim Kurin, while he was in power, performed the duties of the volost elder of the Vokhon volost. He died in 1850, already at an advanced age, having spent several years of his life in Pavlovsky Posad - the city.

When the men were awarded the Crosses of St. George, they were recognized as heroes of the Patriotic War, and they were registered in the Cathedral of Christ the Savior. And in 1912, when the 100th anniversary of the Patriotic War of 1812 was widely celebrated in Russia, a chapel was built in Pavlovsky Posad, where the Knights of St. George were also registered. But in terms of the fight against religion, it was tense here, because there was a special story in which our locally revered saint Vasily Gryaznov was involved, as well as the family of Labzin, the founder of the shawl manufactory. In 1920, 51 years after his death, there was a show trial to expose the “cult of the bandit, eunuch, merchant of the first guild Vasily Ivanovich Gryaznov.” And later the authorities used any moments to stifle religious manifestations. Thus, in 1932, under the plausible pretext of expanding the roadway, the chapel in honor of the heroes of the Patriotic War of 1812 was demolished. And during preparations for the Festival of Youth and Students in 1957, the Resurrection Church was demolished. They were going to demonstrate to foreigners how we preserve history, and for this purpose ancient centers were chosen - Vladimir, Suzdal, Yaroslavl, which later became part of the Golden Ring. They began to check all the monuments, especially religious buildings, to see how good they looked. The churches needed to be either restored or demolished, and the Resurrection Church in Pavlovsky Posad, which is impossible to get around on the road from Moscow to Vladimir, suffered the second fate. And the bell tower with tower clock remained as a monument of religious architecture.

In 1971, a local history museum was opened in the bell tower, and there was an exhibition telling about the battles of the Kura detachment. At the same time, next to the place where the chapel stood, a bust of Gerasim Kurin by local sculptor Anatoly Karasev was installed. People call him “a man with an axe” - a very accurate description, it was these men who crushed the French on our land and drove them away from Russia.

Just like in the autumn season
A Frenchman was walking towards my yard,
Bonaparte General
Bogorodsk conquered
Gerasim Kurin shouted to us:
“Beat your enemies, then we’ll smoke!”

folk song

Ten horsemen appeared at a leisurely pace around the bend of a rural street. The cavalrymen looked surprisingly picturesque - in army coats, zipuns, bast shoes and all with pikes. Two people rode ahead - the tall black-bearded Kurin and the volost mayor Yegor Stulov. The head in a cloth overcoat, fastened with copper hooks at all the loops, in boots greased with tar, looked more like a man experienced in handling a horse and stayed in the saddle appropriately - easily and deftly.

Kurin sat on his dun, much-smelling filly like a peasant, in a squat position, like the others, but with confident dignity. A calm and good-natured look, in which intelligence and will were clearly discernible, and especially abundant weapons against the others - a French saber, two pistols tucked into a red sash and sparkling from the recent point of the peak, indisputably exposed him as a leader.

The men guarding the entrance to the village - some with a pike, and some with pitchforks habitually slung over their shoulders - lined up on both sides of the road, staring with curiosity at those approaching.

Are you far away, Gerasim Matveevich? - the eldest of the guards asked joyfully, rather from a desire to enter into a conversation, for the detachment’s route was not a secret to them.

“Yes, we’ll go to Pokrov with a report,” Kurin answered willingly, “and we’ll deliver a gift to Boris Andreevich, Prince Golitsyn,” Gerasim nodded towards the cart, where three French hussars lay, tightly tied with ropes.

But it’s true, it’s an important gift, the prince will be delighted, the tea... What do you think, Gerasim Matveyevich, will there be help from the prince?

“Yes, we know, don’t hesitate, we’ll keep our eyes open,” the guards became animated, and as soon as the detachment passed, they blocked the entrance to the village with logs.

...Directly at the theater of military operations, Napoleon’s invasion was opposed as combat-ready, organized forces by the army itself, the people’s militia, the formation of which Alexander I was forced to form under the pressure of an unfavorably developing campaign, as well as military and peasant partisan detachments.

The noble provincial assembly elected Prince B. A. Golitsyn as the head of the Vladimir militia, which was organizationally part of the first, or Moscow militia district. It was to him with the joyful news of the successfully won battle that the leaders of the partisan detachment headed.

After the surrender of Moscow without a fight, many experienced, in addition to the bitterness of defeat, a state of painful uncertainty, wondering how the course of the campaign would develop further, how the treacherous Bonaparte would behave. Where will his “great army”, bloodless in the Battle of Borodino, but still terrifying, rush? To St. Petersburg? Tulu? Kazan? The unpredictability of the French emperor's intentions suggested the most unexpected decisions. Much later, on the island of St. Helena, he would say: “I should have died immediately after entering Moscow...”

In the meantime, September 2 was the day of his celebration. Around the same hours, when Napoleon, in impatient bewilderment, was waiting on Poklonnaya Hill for the Moscow boyars with the keys to the city, but never did, Prince Golitsyn, taking a step towards the usurper, occupied the town of Pokrov on the far border with the Moscow province, which became his headquarters. The formation of the militia was delayed, there was an urgent need for weapons and equipment, and the prince, alarmedly reporting to the main headquarters about the lack of forces “to occupy all the roads leading to the Vladimir province,” persistently asked for help, especially with cavalry and cannons.

Golitsyn, not without reason, assumed the possibility that Napoleon would take and move towards the Vladimir province rich in grain reserves, really threatening the right flank of the Russian army camped in Tarutino. Taking into account the latter consideration, the commander-in-chief allocated the Ural Cossack regiment to reinforce the Vladimir militia. The opportunity to provide more significant assistance presented itself a little later, when the strength of the Russian army began to increase day by day, when the fire of the people's war flared up and gained incinerating force, the nature of which was so insightfully understood and uncompromisingly defended by Field Marshal Kutuzov.

The scorching wave of fire did not bypass the Vokhnenskaya volost of Bogorodsky district, the farthest in the east of the Moscow region. Here, under the leadership of Gerasim Kurin, the largest known partisan peasant formation was organized. Already contemporaries were perplexed as to how they, initially unarmed and militarily completely untrained, were able to inflict significant damage on the enemy with their extremely persistent resistance, and in some battles with quite tactically competent actions. In essence, the partisan detachments managed to block the strategically important Vladimir highway, which, by the way, helped to a large extent to successfully complete the formation of the militia. These places, according to the fair remark of the then historian, rightfully remained in the memory of the people as “the extreme line in the east, to which Napoleon’s invasion of Russia extended.”

Napoleon himself, confident of quick negotiations, was by no means idle. Without a clear plan for continuing the campaign in case the negotiations were delayed or did not take place at all, he first of all decided to create strongholds around Moscow to protect against a possible Russian attack, and mainly to collect food, the lack of which immediately began to have a noticeable effect.

It seemed that Prince Golitsyn’s worst fears were confirmed when, in accordance with this plan, selected troops from Marshal Ney’s corps moved onto the Vladimir road and occupied Bogorodsk on September 23.

The head of the Vladimir militia, Lieutenant General and Cavalier Prince Golitsyn, to Field Marshal Kutuzov: “... The enemy occupied this city... had a skirmish with our advanced pickets, and the superiority of his forces forced both pickets to retreat along the Moscow road to the village of Kuznetsam.”

The superiority was expressed in the following ratio: two divisions with 12 guns against the hussar picket stationed in Bogorodsk of four non-commissioned officers and seventy privates. A blade of grass against a hurricane. And yet the fellows did not just run, but retreated with a skirmish.

Immediately after occupying Bogorodsk, the French, in fulfillment of their main task, began to devastate the surrounding villages. And one of the small detachments confidently, as if along a familiar route, moved straight along the road to Vokhnya-Pavlovo. Judging by the small number of the detachment, it was clear that reconnaissance had been sent, and the steam-horse carts also testified to the persistent hope of getting hold of food along the way.

The soldiers behaved relaxed, joked, laughed, as if they were heading not on an expedition, but on a picnic. And indeed, before the performance, rumors spread that in the rich village of Pavlovo, not enemies, but friends were waiting for them and they could hope for a warm welcome. The news in this thoroughly hostile Russia is unusual, all the more so it was invigorating and pleasing. They are people too, tired and hungry. Already on the transition from Smolensk we had to eat mainly horse meat, roasted over coals. They were also oppressed by the general hostility and hatred with which they were greeted in every village.

“Everyone is against us,” one of the participants in the “great march” later wrote, “everyone is ready to either defend themselves or flee... The men are armed with pikes, many on horseback; the women were ready to run away and scolded us just as much as the men.”

Hoping for warm huts, food and rest, those going to Vokhna involuntarily quickened their pace. The first village on their way was Bolshoi Dvor. And as soon as the French reached the last hut, a crowd of people rushed towards them with terrible screams, shaking pikes, pitchforks, scythes, and most just sticks. The attack was so unexpected and loud that the foragers, frightened to death, were blown away by the wind and they disappeared into the pine forest, since the forest approached the road itself. Everything happened in a matter of moments, and the battle was over before it even began.

In the first skirmish, no blood was shed, they did not even try to pursue the fugitives, and in general, if you look closely, you could notice that many of the attackers were trembling nervously, they looked at each other in disbelief, clearly having difficulty understanding what had happened. Finally the tension subsided and they realized - victory! The first victory over a formidable enemy is incredibly easy, bloodless and lucky. Glancing at each other in disbelief to see if what had really happened had really happened, they crowded around two abandoned carts. Trophies, and what kind! Gunpowder, bullets and guns. The eyes refuse to believe - ten guns!

A unanimous cry of joy erupted from two hundred throats, giving, presumably, additional acceleration to the fleeing French. Kurin, also childishly rejoicing that everything had turned out so well, examined each gun with burning interest.

Well, with good intentions, brothers,” he said, smiling broadly and white-toothed from under his thick mustache. - And what an important booty and, you know, legal: what is taken in battle is sacred.

Look, Semyon, with such a gun, Bonaparte himself is not scary,” the young guy playfully took aim at his trustingly smiling neighbor. - How to shoot it, Uncle Gerasim?

It's no big deal, I'll show you. Just get closer to the villain, then you'll definitely get there.

Well, they, the enemy’s children, even without firing, they asked for tea, they’ll stop in Bogorodsk. Or maybe in Paris itself, huh?

Gerasim wanted to warn - they say, we will meet with these runners again, but he remained silent - let them rejoice, in joy the fighting spirit is strengthened - that’s what is most important today. And guns. Oh, truly glorious trophies...

The joy of the partisans is understandable. According to the report of the district leader of the nobility, on August 16, 1812, 2,113 warriors were enrolled in the militia of the Bogorodsky district, 7.5 pounds of flour, 111 quarters of cereals, 1,460 pikes and 8 guns were collected from the population of 10,554 pounds. Eight guns for the entire county militia! The ten carbines that had been received so miraculously inspired extraordinary inspiration, and a detachment with such weapons seemed to be a formidable force, which was confirmed by subsequent events.

And Gerasim looked into the water - the unexpected guests did not keep themselves waiting long. The next day, early in the morning, the enemy occupied Gribovo and, having found nothing and no one, intended to burn the village. But - here it is, the power of the guns captured the day before: after hot, albeit somewhat disorderly shooting on the part of the partisans (when was it possible to learn to shoot accurately?), the enemy was nevertheless driven away. However, the real war began on September 27, when three enemy squadrons were defeated in the village of Subbotino.

Observers sent towards Bogorodsk discovered them ahead of time, and it was an impressive sight. The cavalrymen, as a matter of fact, are well done, although they are shabby and worn out on a long march. And the horses, although obviously starved, had fallen off their bodies. Apparently on starvation rations, just like the soldiers. Behind the cavalrymen, carts rumbled on the clay road, and the black-headed, sharp-eyed Panka Kurin, Gerasim’s son, sitting at the top of a pine tree, counted a good dozen of them.

Panka, leaning face down, shouted something in a strangled voice, and immediately a boy of about ten years old, in patched and patched motley trousers and the same blue-dirty shirt, darted out of the birch tree like a startled hare, barefoot, despite the autumn, and instantly disappeared into forest - to tell Uncle Gerasim that his friend saw him from the top of a pine tree. Kurin already knew the news - the high guards had warned him an hour earlier.

The French settled in a cluster in the center of the village; several people, not without timidity, looked into the nearest huts and immediately returned. The usual picture - the village is empty. No people, no livestock, no birds. Only the dense forest, dark day and night, friend and protector of the partisans, hummed menacingly with the tops of the pine trees. A man clearly looked like a tutor separated from the French: in a filthy frock coat and with his starched chest proudly stuck out. A very similar teacher of lordly children lived before the war on a neighboring landowner’s estate, and with the arrival of the enemy he disappeared without a trace. There was even a rumor that the courtyard people drowned him in Klyazma, and look where he surfaced. The tutor, desperately cowardly and constantly looking back at his people, approached the edge of the forest and waved a white handkerchief, waited, listening. Not a soul was seen or heard in the forest.

Listen, dear peasants, gentlemen, I will speak! - he shouted, straining, into the darkness of the forest. - Come to us without any danger, we will make peace. Do not be afraid of us!.. The greatest and fairest of all monarchs, His Majesty the Emperor and King grants you patronage and protection! His Majesty the Emperor and King does not consider you to be his enemies...

The translator shouted phrases from Napoleon's address to Moscow residents, artisans, working people and especially peasants with calls to come out of the forests, return to their homes, to work, bearing respect and trust at the feet of the conquerors. The appeal was posted all over Moscow, special messengers scattered with it to the districts of the Moscow region, where many died, beaten to death by bludgeoning or lifted by men on pitchforks and pikes. This was the response of ordinary people to the proposed “patronage and protection.”

The translator-tutor continued to strain for a long time, the futility of his efforts reminding him of a booth barker in an empty square, but Yamskoy Bor remained silent. With a stern look, restraining the impatience of the partisans who were eager to fight, Kurin waited, wondering in his mind when Yegor Stulov would have time to bypass the enemy through the forest with a detachment of his cavalry, so that with the first shots they would fly in from the direction of Bogorodsk - they were not expecting an attack from there - and strike together and at the same time. And most importantly, take the French by surprise: surprise and audacity of the attack are the faithful companions of their luck. Nobody taught Kurin battle tactics - his innate intuition, intelligence, and peasant savvy told him the right decision.

On the eve of the battle in Subbotin, a man from the village of Stepurino came to their hastily set up forest camp at night on a lathered horse.

“I barely found you,” he spoke, catching his breath. “We’re in trouble, they’re burning down a village, they burned a man alive... In the afternoon two marauders came in with guns. We didn’t plan anything like that, the kisser even brought wine to the villains. Well, men, women, children came up - they didn’t hide it, they looked. And one of them got drunk and suddenly the dude, the shameless one, grabbed the young woman by the hand - let’s go, they say... The young woman’s husband and push the sneer away, and he grabs the gun, well, and stakes him from behind. And they decided to shoot the second one. And by evening a whole pack of wolves swooped in. Well, the guards warned us, the whole village went into the forest, and decided to go to you, we heard about your heroism. Everyone left, but the peasant Lukyanov Leksei insisted: I won’t, he says, like a poisoned hare, run away from my home and, not listening to persuasion, locked myself in. The adversaries knocked and knocked and lit the hut on fire. But Lexei didn’t come out and perished in the fire.

The Stepurinsky man fell silent, sobbed, the Vokhnenskys made a threatening noise: “That’s right, give no mercy to their Herods’ stakes!..” “Rest assured, we will take revenge,” Kurin said restrainedly, and both anger and pain were heard in his voice: “And for Stepurino, and for other atrocities our tears will flow to them.”

One can ask the question today: didn’t they act too harshly, sometimes killing even lonely foragers who strayed from their troops? No, it was righteous revenge - for looted and burned homes, ruined lives, bullying, robbery and violence. The intoxication of victory, as history shows, turns a conqueror into a barbarian. Even Napoleonic General de Segur wrote with bitter frankness: “We were becoming an army of criminals, which heaven and the entire civilized world would condemn.” What is surprising here, since many conquerors went to heavenly judgment directly from cities and villages near Moscow, Kaluga, Smolensk.

When I arrived at the Tarutino camp former ambassador in Russia, General Lauriston, whom Napoleon authorized to persuade Kutuzov to negotiate peace, he, by the way, spoke resentfully “about the image of the barbaric war” that the Russians were allegedly waging against them. The diplomat addressed his grievances not to the army, but to the residents who were mercilessly exterminating the French, and asked “to stop such unheard-of acts.” Berthier, the chief of staff of the French army, addressed similar claims to the commander-in-chief, proposing to eliminate the attacks of peasant partisans in order to “give the real war an ordinary appearance.”

Field Marshal Kutuzov to Marshal Berthier: “It is difficult to stop a people embittered by everything that they have seen, a people who have not seen war on their land for two hundred years, a people who are ready to sacrifice themselves for their Motherland and who do not distinguish between what is accepted and what is not accepted in ordinary wars.” In other words (according to the famous definition of L. Tolstoy), “the club of the people’s war rose with all its formidable and majestic strength and, without asking anyone’s tastes and rules... nailed the French until the entire invasion was destroyed.”

The night in the partisan forest shelter on the eve of the battle in Subbotin passed in anxiety. Only a few - some out of carelessness of serene daring, like Fedka Tolstosumov, and some out of weakness of physical strength, like grandfather Antip, took naps under the trees, leaning their backs against the rough trunk and not letting go of a pike or a well-planed spear from their hands. Finally, around eleven o’clock in the morning, exhausted from waiting, Kurin gave the command: “It’s time!” - and they, in desperate and fearless excitement, attacked the French, encouraging themselves with a thunderous “hurray!” From the rear of the alley, also with some unearthly cries (well, purely Tatars), the peasant cavalry flew out, to the complete surprise of the enemy, and everyone clashed and mixed up so that in the closeness of the battle, even the few guns in peasant hands, taken by the barrel, served as a club nailing The Stepurin men who arrived in time frantically rushed at the enemy with their bare hands.

Some of the cavalrymen nevertheless broke through, the rest were killed, and only three hussars, by some miracle, remained alive, and even those, seeing the rage of the people surrounding them, no longer considered themselves residents in this world.

Kurin arrived in time to stop the inevitable lynching, the trembling hussars were tied up and taken out of sight to the hut. The bosses also entered there - Kurin, Stulov, Sotsky Chushkin, some of the old men - and here you go, lop-eared, that is, frivolous, Fedka Tolstosumov, and, strangely, Gerasim Matveevich, hero and partisan ruler, with him treats you in a friendly and respectful manner. The people have a keen eye, they saw how he took Fedka by the arm and quietly, but someone heard, asked: “Are you the one the French were calling out for a conversation? Why didn’t you come out?” And Fedka seemed to answer: “If you fall into their claws, the hawk will kiss the hen to the last feather.”

Lost in conjecture, some unconditionally denied Fedka his opportunity to take life seriously. They say, the balabolka, he went to Moscow as a rogue, and now he has returned, apparently quite rich in his mind. And others shook their heads in disbelief: “Eh, don’t tell me, this is a secret matter... Gerasim wouldn’t treat tea for stupidity.”

They did not keep the council in the hut for long. They grieved for the dead blacksmith, and decided to transport several wounded partisans to a forest camp - under the supervision of women.

This time the trophies, both horses and weapons, are absolutely fabulous. We immediately agreed: one should have a gun, a pistol or a saber, and whoever grabbed the extra should be divided equitably. They did not argue - the reasonableness of the redistribution seemed obvious. Gerasim, as the leader, was nevertheless given two pistols and a saber - so they thought they would show special trust and respect for him. In this battle, Kurin himself pierced two enemies to death with a sharp pike, rushed to where he needed help, and was so absorbed in the battle that he found himself without prey. Fedka hesitated what to leave - a gun or a pistol, a beautiful toy pistol, you can’t say anything, but, sighing regretfully, he took the gun.

If the charge comes out, you still have a reliable club in your hands,” he explained his choice. - Handy. There Ivan Yakovlevich (Fedka turned to Sotsky Chushkin) famously considered the adversary’s heads as a gun, as he did now. It's quite enviable.

No one smiled at the joke - they were pondering the death of the blacksmith, the first fellow villager to die in the battle.

It was not by his own death, as God ordained, that a good man left the world, but by force, and the children remained, little by little.

“It’s also God’s death,” Kurin said thoughtfully, “in battle because, for the fatherland.”

Stulov, accustomed to maintaining order in everything, said that it would be necessary to quickly remove the enemy corpses out of sight.

Why clean them up? - the dry, short grandfather Antip suddenly fidgeted. - Into the swamp, sons of the enemy, into the swamp, let the quagmire clean them up.

Grandfather did not seem to be in the forefront of running to the battlefield, but came to the council with a long broadsword, which dragged along the ground behind him, rattling and clanking as he walked.

“What you’re saying is not the point, grandfather,” Gerasim objected, “even though they are enemies, they are still people.” Wherever a person is found, and everywhere she, the earthling, must accept him. Our land is foreign to them, and they set foot on it with bad intentions, so we will not be buried in the cemetery, but in the forest, in a distant clearing. And we’ll level the place - let the grass grow.

Soon after lunch, Kurin, Stulov and a dozen more horsemen surrounded the cart, where the hussars lay more dead than alive, and quickly, at a trot, and downhill and galloped along the dusty road.

We galloped to Pokrov before dark. In the spacious courtyard of the manor house, where Prince Golitsyn Boris Andreevich kept his headquarters, the appearance of Vokhny armed men with three captured Frenchmen caused extraordinary excitement and curiosity, people came running as if to a fire, most had never seen the Antichrists and villains.

Golitsyn came out, spoke to the prisoners in French, as if with affection in his voice, ordered to untie the ropes, and the hussars, rubbing their numb hands, left under escort. “To interrogate and clarify the position of the enemy,” the non-commissioned officer explained to the disgruntled crowd, who expected decisive behavior from the prince, maybe flogging the villains, or maybe right here, in front of everyone, and immediate execution.

The adjutant pointed to Kurin and Stulov, standing modestly to the side. The prince nodded graciously, thanked them for their service to the Tsar and the Fatherland, and told them to settle down at the inn - he would be free from business and would receive them. The general, alas, did not have time to meet with the partisan leaders, and yet, as an obliging person, he ordered Colonel Nefedyev through his adjutant: to give advice to the partisans on how to proceed and, if possible, find reinforcements.

The Vokhny people were returning from Pokrov, accompanied by twenty Cossacks. They were singled out rather for moral support - albeit tiny, but still military unit. Kurin, gloomy and preoccupied, hastening the detachment, lashed with a whip his filly, who was by no means a cavalry officer, accustomed to pulling a difficult burden in a peasant farm. The Cossacks laughed until they cried, watching the men, waving their outstretched elbows as if they were clipped wings, jumping absurdly in time with the gallop of their horses.

According to historical chronicles, the center of the Vokhno volost is either Vokhnya or Pavlovo. In essence, they are the same thing. Vokhneya was the name given to Dmitrovsky Pogost, which grew up here at the time when Ivan the Terrible transferred the lands of the volost to the Trinity-Sergius Lavra. Pogost - two churches, warm and cold, as stated in the scribe books of 1623–1624, the houses of the church clergy, several peasant households, “and with that graveyard the village of Pavlovo on the Vokhonka River, and with it there are 25 peasant households and peasants, and two households monastery and 3 forges, and in the village there is a market, and in that market there are 30 log shops, and in those shops the peasants of the Vokhno volost sell...”

The volost continued to be called Vokhnenskaya, and its center became the expanded and famous Pavlovo, now the regional center of Pavlovo-Posad. In this enterprising village, where peasants were engaged not only in arable farming, but also in trade, weaving and other crafts, Gerasim Kurin was born into a peasant family in 1777. The Chickens have little land, but a lot of work was required - from dawn to dusk, and with the scanty local sandy and clay soils, the harvests were not encouraging - in a bad year, you would bring in taxes, pay off past debts and even sweep out the bins with a broom, maybe there was grain lying around - other.

The Kurin family held tightly to their piece of land, they saw in it some kind of inviolability, reliability, like a penny set aside for a rainy day, and some fellow villagers tried their luck in trading, weaving, the more successful ones started manufactories at home, even with hired, mostly alien workers , there were also those who went to Moscow in search of a better fate, but not many found it.

Vokhnya-Pavlovo developed rapidly as a trade center, which was greatly facilitated by its proximity to the Great Vladimir Road - Napoleon’s headquarters would also pay attention to the important trade and strategic route. The Klyazma River, albeit with steep banks, reached a width of up to twenty-five fathoms, which allowed barges and small ships to bring goods from Vladimir and even from Nizhny Novgorod. The Vokhnets put up for auction bread and food supplies, woolen and paper fabrics, and partly silk, dyed, Pavlovsk scarves, which over time became so famous that the fashion for them has survived to this day.

Now it is difficult to establish when and why Matvey Kurin, Gerasim’s father, was taken into the military service. The mother worked hard from dawn to dusk in the field and with housework, and the boy had to take on a considerable share of the worries. As a teenager, his mustache was just beginning to emerge; he works on par with adult men, habitually harnessed to the exhausting peasant life and labor. And although they worked double-time, they barely survived until spring, until the first auxiliary greenery. My mother’s stew from young nettles or quinoa was not only edible, as they said, but even tasty. Moreover, work and fresh air in abundance also increased the desire for food. On difficult days, we consoled ourselves with the old peasant proverb: bread and water are good food.

And the village grew richer, the quality houses of local moneybags grew, which over time even formed an entire Kupecheskaya Street. Particularly successful was Nikita Urusov, a merchant, manufacturer and stingy man the likes of whom the world had never seen. When the old man died (and he also kept his household in a black body), his son, Grigory, either out of grief, or rather out of joy, arranged a funeral unprecedented in pomp, the drunken river flowed like Vokhnya was in flood, and some food and wine Even from the capital itself, messengers were delivered.

The young and tirelessly zealous heir, Grigory Urusov, constrained by the confines of the village and possessing power - solid capital, several years before Napoleon's invasion, opened a large manufactory in Moscow with more than a hundred hired workers. Of the Pavlovskys, only Fedka Tolstosumov was seduced by metropolitan life - a poor man, a wandering need, who suffered from ridicule of a surname incongruous with his position. But the peasants Labzins and Shchepetelnikovs did not disdain their surnames, on the contrary, they were proud - they became large manufacturers in Pavlov itself.

Bread trading was held weekly, and at the end of October an annual fair was held, noisy, like all fairs, loud, colorful, rich. There was a large trade in grain, and bakers, famous for their skill, offered a variety of baked goods. The ancient laws were strictly observed, requiring that sieve and lattice breads, grated rolls and gingerbread rolls be baked and that there should be no residue or mixture in them.

Rarely did anyone dare to break the custom: after all, bringing bad goods to auction is at a loss, his former confidant in children's games and pranks, Yegor Semenovich Stulov, who was firmly established in the position of volost head, explained to Gerasim during a tour of the fair. Egor inherited a stronger farm and better land from his parents, and with skillful arable farming he achieved a stable, average income. He was not proud of the trust and power given to him; he did not unnecessarily break his hat in front of Pavlovsk business people; he tried to be fair with the poor.

In childhood and adolescence, Gerasim undoubtedly excelled in street games and youthful pastimes; over the years, Egor became noticeably more prominent, especially in community affairs, which did not prevent them from maintaining an even and good relationship. Only once, during the days of the invasion, at a general gathering in a difficult moment for the village, an involuntary, undisclosed rivalry between two strong natures almost broke through, but their friendship, baptized in the war with Napoleon and by fire, stood the test of strength and was consolidated for many years. People say for life, until death.

Gerasim, or Geraska, as he was called in childhood according to the custom here, was a troubled boy - he led his peers in the village, led his army against the same bullies from the surrounding villages. Vokhnya-Pavlovo was almost surrounded by a dense pine forest with sparse copses. Bor is a wealth that the monks of the Trinity-Sergius Lavra could not boast of. In the old days, the forest was teeming with animals, among the local villagers there were even special princely beaver hunters, that is, hunters, but over the years the animals, and especially hunting, came to naught, and yet one could still come face to face with a clubfoot in a raspberry forest. Without special need, few people climbed into the depths of the forest.

Seemingly knowing the surroundings like the back of his hand, Gerasim nevertheless, when he was ten years old, got lost in broad daylight, went into the impassable wilderness and wandered for three days. The old people believe that evil spirits were driving the little boy. He fortified himself with bitter, unripe - his cheekbones cramped, rowan, grass-ant, looked greedily at the mushrooms that came in abundance - edible, satisfying, but only without fire - death, Geraska knew this. I tried the ancient method I heard from old people to make fire, I rubbed dry sticks against each other until exhaustion, I got them to darken and even seemed to smoke a little, but, damn it, they didn’t burn, no matter how much I cry. But he didn’t cry, he understood that salvation was to walk as long as his legs could hold him, and through the Wetlands, where even an adult would probably have disappeared, by some miracle he came out to Klyazma. He understood - he was saved, and as fast as he could he ran upstream, towards the house.

“Lucky,” the neighbors said respectfully, and the mother, who did not want to see her son alive, grabbed the first twig she came across and began to care for her beloved child, crying with joy and the grief that had subsided at once.

A quarter of a century later, Gerasim remembered his wanderings in the forest. When the argument arose about where it would be better to set up a camp for the residents of Pavlov and nearby villages, to better hide from the enemy, he, without hesitation, led the women, old people, and children into the depths of Yamsky Bor. Everyday experience is an invaluable wealth if it is used to benefit oneself and others, and therefore the childhood adventure, which almost ended in irreparable misfortune for Gerasim, resonated years later and played a good service.

From his father, Gerasim took sedate prudence, inconspicuous cunning, and quick wit; from his mother, he took gray eyes and an easy-going character, the ability to get along with people.

Matvey Kurin returned from far and wide as a soldier's wanderings soon after Russian troops under the command of Suvorov took Izmail by storm.

Old Kurin was walking in a column commanded by Kutuzov - Mikhail Larivonych, - Matvey respectfully clarified, remembering how the soldiers bravely rushed along the shaky assault ladders onto the steep walls of the fortress, that nothing seemed to be able to stop them and did not stop them - neither the cannonballs, nor bullets, nor Turkish sabers and scimitars. The puncture wounds in the battle were not counted, but already on the wall itself, Matvey’s legs were mutilated by buckshot.

The retired soldier with a heavy, gnarled stick moved around the hut with difficulty, but mostly lay on the stove, where rye was dried in the best harvest years, warming his crippled bones with the grain spirit. When Gerasim’s father returned, he turned fourteen, and he was a strong guy, tall beyond his years. Matvey took a closer look at his son - how he managed things, and approved: he was growing up as a good worker, skillful and almost did not interfere in economic affairs, only shouted for order, although there was no particular need for that.

On major holidays, and especially at the fair, men, artisans, and working people walked. They drank in moderation, for the sake of warmth and mood, and about the one who began to chatter, they said with condemnation: “Well, the guslik has gone wild in his head.” Here they brewed mash with special local hops - it grew in Bogorodsky district on the Guslitsa River. However, according to the strict moral code of the peasants, “getting drunk” to excess was considered a shameful and wasteful thing.

Young people have their own games - gatherings, songs and dances. Between Vokhnya and Pavlov, as already mentioned, there was neither a clear boundary nor enmity, so there was harmless mutual teasing, and in the winter, when the ice on the Vokhnya River became stronger, the Vokhnyanites often fought side by side against the Pavlovskys. They fought without malice, only with their fists - no one would have thought of taking a stick or a stone, the youth simply showed strength and dexterity, and besides, in the very center of the village there was fun, in full view of biased witnesses, so no one tried to deviate from the rules.

The Pavlovskys were usually led by Gerasim. By the age when matchmakers are already looking for brides, he grew into a handsome and strong guy - his army coat barely fit on his broad chest, in fun he was dexterous and dared to envy, but out of stupidity, like some other peers, he never showed his strength. Community opinion in the person of the all-seeing, all-knowing gossips, who can easily spot a flaw in an angel, was especially touched by his sober way of life (and he’s young and hot!) and the ability to do things as if easily, without strained and even more so ostentatious strain . The young man had skillful hands: he was a plowman, a carpenter, and a saddler, and when there was an urgent need, he could stand usefully as an assistant to the blacksmith Anton Neelov and work with a hammer at his leisure.

When the younger Urusov, a few years after that famous funeral, opened his trading and merchant business in the capital, he also invited Kurin, not as an employee, but as an assistant to the manager. It was not in vain that he invited Gerasim from the psalm-reader Ivan Otradinsky, with whom he was on good terms, learned to read and write a little, knew arithmetic, was distinguished by his prudence of mind and firmness in his words. The merchant promised good money - Gerasim was not tempted. In the village they talked about this for a long time and with approval.

Gerasim married a modest and hard-working girl from the nearby village of Gribovo, and they had a son - they named him Panka. The birth was difficult, the young woman barely came out - thank you, the same psalm-reader Ivan, literate and great admirer medicinal herbs, gave the woman in labor a drink with his decoctions. She recovered, got better, and, to Gerasim’s chagrin, they were destined to remain with one son. As usual, in the family a boy, even the only one, was not pampered; in peasant families, they are generally stingy with tenderness - this is what common sense and the principles of folk pedagogy learned over centuries suggest. Here, the main moral measure of sustainability in life is the attitude to work, reverence and care for elders.

Panka loved to tinker with his father around the house - there was something to do both in winter and in summer. Sweep the hut, the yard - here the girl will manage. He learned to help his father fix a sleigh or a cart, repair clamps and other harnesses, hammer nails into a harrow, saw and chop wood, and if they were allowed to ride on a filly to the river for a watering hole, it would be a sin to wish for a greater reward.

It happened that he fell under the hot hand of his father if he smoked poorly. Can you show me at least one boy in the village who could avoid a slap on the head from his father or grandfather? There is a usual conversation between children about parental punishments:

Did you have enough yesterday?

Just think, I didn’t even blink.

Grandfather Matvey, however, made more and more incomprehensible threats: “Look,” he said, angry, to his grandson, “I’ll put you under the gun.” Panka would have been glad to stand under the gun and see with one eye what it was like, but for some reason the grandfather did not carry out the threat. There was no gun, as Panka understood. They said that the gentleman from Melenki had a real musket, a fireball that really crackled in his ears. So master.

The ingenuity and courage of Panka (the chicken breed) were fully manifested and with considerable benefit in the partisan detachment in the first days, as soon as they were organized. With Fedka Tolstosumov (a special story about him), they, fulfilling Kurin’s order, freely reached almost Moscow itself and a few days before the occupation of Bogorodsk they managed to find out that the troops heading to their district were personally commanded by one of the most important and famous Napoleonic marshals - Her.

On October 4, Prince Golitsyn, in a report to General P. Konovnitsyn on duty, reported this as an indisputable fact: “...according to information from prisoners, Marshal Ney himself was in Bogorodsk and commanded all the troops in the vicinity of Moscow that were for foraging, the number of which was more than 14 thousands of infantry and cavalry; in Bogorodsk itself there were 12 cannons.”

Needless to say, the peasant detachments and the Vladimir militia had to deal with a serious enemy, but even this vaunted infantry and cavalry with their guns were beaten, exterminated, driven away by the bast men, not giving the invaders a moment of rest. In the leaflets published by Kutuzov’s headquarters, the peasants who took up arms were referred to as “our respectable villagers,” and the main motive for their actions was declared to be love for the Fatherland.

However, the successes and scope of the “small war” greatly worried not only Napoleon; the flaring up resistance of the people also worried the tsar’s entourage, where envious people who intrigued against the commander-in-chief, serf-owners, predominated. It is known, for example, that at the initial stage of the war the commanders of military detachments were ordered not to supply the partisans with weapons, and the governors were even given instructions not only to disarm the peasants, but also to “shoot those who are caught indignant.”

An eloquent warning, or rather, a malicious slander from the Governor-General of Moscow and (what an irony of fate!) the commander-in-chief of the most important and largest - the Moscow militia district, F. V. Rostopchin: “Minds have become very impudent and without respect. The habit of beating enemies transformed most of the villagers into robbers.” And here is M.I. Kutuzov’s attitude towards the same villagers: “There are many famous exploits,” the field marshal wrote, “performed by our venerable villagers, but they cannot be made public in the first instance, because the names of the brave ones are still unknown; measures have been taken to learn about them and hand them over to the fatherland for due respect.”

In this war, according to Denis Davydov, “the moral strength of the slaves rose to the heroism of the free people,” and it was fear, panic fear of the slaves who were learning the taste of freedom that decisively determined the mindset of those in power. From the same class position, the representative of England at Kutuzov’s headquarters, R. Wilson, assessed the danger of the awakening self-awareness of the Russian people: “It is not only the external enemy that must be feared; maybe now it is the safest for Russia. The enemy’s invasion produced a strong peasant class, which realized its strength and received such bitterness in character that it could become dangerous.”

Although Napoleon's promises and calls for loyal cooperation did not find any response among the people, the fire of resistance flared up slowly and unevenly in the first period of the war. General Alexei Petrovich Ermolov in his famous “Notes” testifies: “The villagers came to me to ask whether they were allowed to arm themselves against the enemy and whether they would not be held accountable for this...”

Be exposed to responsibility for the fact that, risking their lives, they are ready to rise up against the conqueror? Isn't it absurd? If we remember Rostopchin’s warnings, the peasants’ uncertainty and timidity are more than justified. “The people’s war is too new for us,” notes F. Glinka in “Letters of a Russian Officer,” “it seems they are still afraid to give a free hand. Until now, there is not a single proclamation allowing people to gather, arm themselves and act where, how and to whom they can...”

Kutuzov, thinking not so much about himself, about his personal destiny, but about the historical mission entrusted to him by the people, about the right and duty of all who can hold arms to stand up for the defense of the fatherland, in one of his reports to the tsar he wrote: “With martyrdom’s firmness They endured all the blows associated with the enemy invasion, hid their families and young children in the forests, and they themselves, armed, sought defeat in their peaceful homes against the emerging predators. Often the women themselves cunningly caught these villains and punished their attempts with death, and often armed villagers, joining our garrisons, greatly assisted them in exterminating the enemy, and it can be said without exaggeration that many thousands of the enemy were exterminated by the peasants.”

Soon after the sending of this convincing document, when for an unprejudiced observer the successes of the “small war” were already undeniable, moreover, the widespread participation of the people’s militia and partisan detachments during the preparation of the counter-offensive became integral part strategy that determined the development of the campaign, the commander-in-chief, experiencing pressure from the court, is again forced to explain himself, justify himself, proving the correctness of his concept of the liberation war with the most active and selfless participation of the peasantry in it:

Field Marshal Kutuzov to Alexander I: “During the enemy’s occupation of the Moscow, Kaluga and part of the Tula provinces, the residents of those places tried to get weapons for themselves, thereby wanting to protect themselves from enemy invasion. Respecting this just need and the spirit of their common zeal to harm the enemy everywhere, I not only did not try to restrain them from such an intention, but, on the contrary, through Lieutenant General Konovnitsyn, who was on duty with me, I strengthened these desires in them and supplied them with enemy guns. Thus, the residents of the designated places received guns from my main watch and from the partisans (military detachments. - Ed.), others from the French themselves, whom they killed with their own hands.”

“Not only did I not try to keep them from such an intention...” So, they persistently demanded from the commander-in-chief to restrain them? However, the river has already overflowed its banks. And Kutuzov, not without a bold challenge, answers: “On the contrary, he intensified these desires in them...” In order to write so directly and openly to the all-powerful autocrat, definitely knowing that it is not praise that awaits you, but anger, you need to have considerable civic courage.

Among those villagers of the Moscow province who received guns from the French themselves, killing them with their own hands, were the Vokhny peasants. I happened to read from our contemporary that Gerasim Kurin came to the Tarutino camp, was received and treated kindly by the commander-in-chief, expressed his thoughtful advice and considerations regarding the further conduct of the campaign, reveled on equal terms with the famous commanders of military detachments (parties) and returned to Vokhnya with a truck loaded with new guns. Which allegedly prompted the peasants to organize into a detachment.

Meanwhile, Kutuzov especially emphasizes in his report to the tsar that French guns were distributed, and it could not have been otherwise, because even for the militia regiments included in the regular army, there were not enough weapons. After the battle of Maloyaroslavets, which prompted the retreating Napoleon to turn onto the disastrous Smolensk road, Marshal J. Bessieres, who understood the impossibility of breaking through to Kaluga in the current situation, noted, in particular: “What kind of enemy do we have to fight? Didn’t we see the field of the last battle, didn’t we notice the fury with which the Russian militia, barely armed and uniformed, marched to certain death?

Kurin's detachment did not last long, and for seven days - from the first skirmish in the village of Bolshoi Dvor to the flight of the French from Bogorodsk - it was in daily battles. No respite. There is no doubt that the commander-in-chief, unlike the arrogant Prince Golitsyn, would have found the opportunity to accept and treat kindly the peasant leader (there are many such examples), but Kurin simply did not have the opportunity physical ability for a long trip to a Russian army camp. And in general, before the fire of Moscow, it never occurred to them that the war would reach the very threshold, although Pavlovo, like all of vast Russia, lived in anxiety before the impending hard times.

Rumor, people say, can be heard across the river. A slanderous, evil-tongued rumor that is passed on in whispers. And in days of trials and grievous troubles, bitter news does not travel, but flies, spreading like a forest fire. Either alarming: Smolensk has fallen... Sometimes joyful: the adversary is defeated in the Battle of Borodino!..

“I told you, Mikhail Larivonych will stop the villain,” former Kutuzov grenadier Matvey Kurin inspired his fellow villagers. - What good is he against a Russian soldier who takes a fortress at the point of a bayonet? The Frenchman will run into a bear like a spear, and give up his filthy spirit.

And again the rumor that a cold snake crawled in and began to spread, confirmed day by day by alarming messages: the enemy was not defeated, on the contrary, he was moving towards Moscow, raging in the occupied territory. They say that no matter how much baked bread, flour or grain they find from the peasants, as well as horses, cows, sheep, they will take everything without a trace... some villages are completely burned out and the peasants are stabbed... they break and poke icons with pikes and make stables out of churches...

In the evening, a suspicious man stopped the cart at the inn. Judging by the dress and shiny cheeks, he looks like a merchant, and his appearance is wild, as if he saw the devil in broad daylight. Kupchina, desperately nervous, asked the horses for oats.

Hurry up, for Christ’s sake, my dear, I’ll pay you well.

Where in such a hurry, your lordship? - the men became interested.

To Vladimir, and there, God willing, wherever your eyes lead.

From afar, if it's not a secret?

What an Orthodox secret it is: from Mother Moscow. The golden-headed one disappeared, they gave it to the adversary for desecration...

The peasants were taken aback, excited: “What are you... What are you... Yes, a tip on your tongue, unscrupulous enemy, spy of the Bonapartes,” - and on the chest, and on the neck, and on the ear. When Stulov and Sotsky Chushkin hurriedly approached in response to the noise, the rumpled merchant held his torn collar with one hand, covered his scratched cheek with the other and swore so abusively that Yegor immediately understood: his man, a Russian, was just not a coward in the Russian way, and maybe he was mean in nature. , from the disclosers - it is necessary to establish. The district strictly ordered: to maintain peace and quiet so that empty, depraved rumors of idle people would not be spread, and to report those who spread rumors about the fall of Moscow as liars and cowards to the authorities.

The beaten visitor, turning to the volost with hope, was about to make excuses, when suddenly he did not announce the good news - he rang the alarm bell of the large bell of the Church of the Resurrection. The men were surprised - for some reason the bells rang at the wrong time, and the alarm grew louder, people were already running into the square from all sides, women howled, women began to wail, someone, shouting above the noise, shouted heart-rendingly: “Look, look, there’s a fire!” And everyone saw a growing ominous glow in the direction where Moscow stood. Forgotten by the peasants, the merchant began to fuss, whipped the horses, the cart rumbled, but no one even looked in that direction.

All night along the road to Vladimir the traffic did not stop; carts, trucks, and carriages creaked and rumbled. Many peasants were also awake, talking quietly, as if afraid of causing trouble, looking anxiously to the west, to where the glow was spreading across half the sky.

What are we going to do, Egor? - Gerasim asked when, in this night movement from group to group, they found themselves next to each other for a while.

What to do? - Stulov sighed. - Just to know... We'll wait, hope.

What to expect? Villain's visit?

Do you think it will be good for him to come here?

What's the move? Fifty miles is not a road for him, that’s where he came from.

I don’t know, Gerasim, our business is peasant, forced, as they order, obey.

No, Egor. If tomorrow, say, a Frenchman harnesses me instead of my little filly to a plow and starts driving me, should I submit to him?..

The men listened to their conversation in silence - they had nothing to say. What they could, it seemed, they had already done. When, even before the fall of Moscow, a decree was issued - to select men aged from eighteen to forty-five years old into the militia, to prepare supplies, people, exhausted in the unknown and not knowing where to put themselves, began to work with extraordinary zeal. Forges blazed in the forges, hammers began to knock - blacksmiths forged tips for pikes, tailors and shoemakers made clothes and shoes for the militias or altars, as they began to be called among the people, because they sacrificed themselves not according to a mandatory set, but at the behest of their souls stood up for defense Russian land.

Stulov received carts from the surrounding villages with bread and other supplies that the men brought, and was up to his neck, could not tear himself away from such an important matter for a minute, and had to run around the volost, hurrying and coercing. And somehow imperceptibly it turned out that Gerasim Kurin, who did not hold any position in Pavlov, became, as it were, the center of general enthusiasm and troubles; everyone needed him for advice and help and kept up with everything everywhere. He did not give orders, did not raise his voice, but quickly and fairly dealt with even such unusual matters as a dispute almost to the point of a fight between two young bourgeois brothers Syrtsov - which of them, according to their age, should join the militia.

On the road to Pokrov, under the command of Prince Golitsyn, militia detachments passed thickly. The boys looked with envy at the dashingly angled caps with a cross, the men noted with sympathy the thinness of the uniform. Very few were dressed in full peasant militia “uniform”: a shirt with a slanted collar, a gray caftan, trousers made of rough cloth, boots. The majority have habitual bast shoes, not adapted to long journeys. And not a single gun, not even a pike.

How will they fight, dear ones?

Just let him poke his head in, look how many of us we’ll notice with our hats,” Fedka Tolstosumov said boastfully and proudly looked left and right: what impression does he make?

Your Moscow cut cap is apparently a very formidable weapon that will intimidate anyone, even a grenadier,” Kurin smiled, “but it would be nice to have something more substantial under your cap, besides curls.”

Fedka Tolstosumov was twenty-five years old - only ten years younger than Kurin, and in appearance and especially in his habits he looked like a cocky, frivolous boy. Living in Moscow as a weaver’s apprentice didn’t seem to add to his stature (Stulov once muttered: “And intelligence”), but last years before the war and an independent worker at the manufactory of Grigory Urusov. He appeared in Pavlov three days after Moscow began to burn, and, as soon as he showed up at his mother’s (his father died early), he went straight to Gerasim Kurin - their families were close as neighbors and were even in some distant relationship. People saw how, soon after his arrival, Panka rushed like a bullet to the volost and immediately returned with Yegor Stulov, and the three of them talked about something all evening, and Panka stood at the gate - either he was guarding, or they simply ordered him to go to the hut .

There was something to be surprised and something to hide: Gerasim almost dropped a spoon into the bowl of stew when Fedka, right from the threshold, without even crossing himself at the icon in the red corner, blurted out:

So, Gerasim Matveyevich, I returned to my native land as a spy and agent of Bonaparte. Call the volost, call the sotsky, tie me up and take me straight to the district. I will repent in spirit.

Kurin got over his surprise, looked carefully at Fedka and said somewhat dully and leisurely, as if weighing every word:

You came through the district, through Bogorodsk, why take you back? Tell us, let’s listen here, in native land, maybe we’ll bury it. Tea, its own soul, Christian, although sold out.

Yes, I didn’t sell out, Gerasim Matveevich, I deceived them, the villains, I drove around on a curve, that’s the cross, - and he finally crossed himself, while looking not at the icon, but at the owner.

It was then that Panka was sent for the volost.

In short, in those troubled hours, when the army left Moscow and the enemy hesitated somewhere (Napoleon was waiting for the boyars with the keys to the city on Poklonnaya Hill), Fedka and some reckless company ended up in an empty abandoned tavern, quickly and He recovered from a complete loss of consciousness and human appearance and woke up only when, with gun butts hitting him in the ribs, they brought him to a man of clearly high, commanding appearance. Fedka, to his horror, realized that he was standing in front of a French general - as it turned out later, in front of the commandant of Moscow Milho himself.

With the general there was a non-French translator, and this circumstance saved Fedka, because, having heard the Russian words (he, in the presence of the general, asked: “Who sent you, you mug, to set fire?”), Tolstosumov, without even delving into the essence of the question, but only catching the corner of his consciousness on the familiar word “muzzle”, he began to speak frequently, looking hauntedly at the man in the embroidered gold uniform. (“Isn’t it Napoleon himself?” - a stupid thought flashed.) Confusedly, quickly and quite clearly, he outlined the beginning of his adventures, and what happened next - he couldn’t remember, no matter how hard he strained, he became timid, feeling like he was somewhere on his heels a chill from the inevitability of death seeps through.

The man who knew how to say “muzzle” so soulfully began to ask questions: what is the name? Where are you from? What does he do? The general became extremely interested in the area near Bogorodsk and then asked the names of the villages several times, then - here Fedka stood up on his bench and, looking trustingly at Kurin and Stulov, realizing that he was communicating something important, said in a whisper:

Then I saw how the general drew a line on the map from Moscow to Bogorodsk, but from Bogorodsk to Vokhnya and further somewhere, I did not see.

The interrogation lasted quite a long time, and in the end the general, through an interpreter, said:

We should have you on his orders Imperial Majesty and shoot the king as an arsonist and a bandit. But you seem to be a man with a head. - Fedka involuntarily became dignified, glared at Kurin and Stulov, they were silent, looking at the earthen floor, and Tolstosumov withered his face and wilted. - In a word, they said that they were letting me go so that I could get to my home and tell my village peasants not to be afraid of us, we don’t consider them enemies. And also, he says, tell those owners in the volost who have bread and food to go to Moscow without fear, here the auctions will be open, they won’t offend anyone, but on the contrary, they will reward them.

When they were released, Fedka said, a poster, supposedly from Bonaparte’s order, was handed over for reading in the volost, but the French poster (here Fedka looked down) he... that... the French poster was used for business, but ours, on the contrary, he picked up and delivered. Hid it and delivered it.

Tolstosumov rummaged in his bosom and proudly laid out a sheet of paper folded several times. It was one of Rostopchin's leaflets. The count, who had boasted that the adversary would not see Moscow like his ears, now turned with emotion to those very “robber villagers”, whom, by their nature, an ardent serf-owner, did not consider as people and until recently had rudely and unfairly slandered them.

“Peasants! Residents of the Moscow province!

The enemy of the human race, God’s punishment for our sins, a devilish obsession, an evil Frenchman entered Moscow, betrayed it to sword and flame... - Stulov read, hesitatingly, the count’s message - verbose, confused, noisy, from which only one thing was clear, that you can take up arms and not show pity for the conqueror: - Wherever they come, throw them alive and dead into a deep grave... Don’t be timid, brave brothers... wherever you can nearby, exterminate the vile, unclean reptile bastard, and then go to Moscow Appear to the king and boast of your deeds. “He will restore you again,” the high-ranking Pharisee assured without a twinge of conscience, “again, and you will live happily as before.”

“Oh, it’s important, let’s cripple the adversary’s neck and live happily ever after,” Fedka began to make a habit of making fun of him, but Gerasim interrupted him gloomily:

Wait, I need to think about how to deal with you.

They judged and debated this way and that, discussing everything they had heard from Tolstosumov, and came to the following: about the Fedkins’ antics with the French, which happened as a result of his irresponsibility and headlessness (“You have to go crazy like that,” perplexed Kurin, who even on major holidays managed without intoxication. “It’s so free…” Stulov chuckled condescendingly, with understanding), “don’t report it in the village, keep it secret, so as not to confuse people’s minds.”

They won’t let you pass, they’ll harass you, or they might even make a decision,” Yegor remarked reasonably.

Popular rumors reported about such cases, when excited people dealt with enemy spies on the spot or those who were mistaken for such - the example of the kupchina in this sense is very typical. The news spread from mouth to mouth about the courageous act of the peasant of the Bronnitsky district, Nikita Makarov, who came to the main headquarters of the Russian army, ensured that he was heard on an important matter and conclusively exposed his master, the landowner Andrei Klyucharov, as a traitor and accomplice of enemy troops. And in one village near Moscow, the peasants mercilessly exterminated the merchants as traitors, because they, bowing to the promises of Bonaparte, collected a grain train for trade with the enemy.

The main thing that the participants in the secret conversation took away from Fedka Tolstosumov’s story and what alarmed them most was that they should expect the enemy in Vokhnya. The map with the line from the capital to Bogorodsk and beyond left no doubt about this.

Several days passed in a state of uncertainty and anxiety, and since news of robberies and violence in the vicinity of Moscow became increasingly clear and terrifying, they decided to convene a village gathering. And again - it was September 23 - the big bell began to ring.

They came not only from their own people, but also from the nearest villages - Gribovo, Bolshiye Dvory, Nazarovo, Subbotino, Nasyrovo, and from distant settlements. The spacious market square did not accommodate everyone, and people crowded on the descent to the Vokhna River, not expecting that it was in this place, on the banks of a narrow river, that they would have to fight a bloody battle.

The volost mayor Yegor Semenovich Stulov stood on the cart in the center of the square, towering above everyone. He was nervous, and the speaker was so-so, he spoke about misfortunes and troubles and that the whole world must rise up and resist, relying on God and the Tsar-Father...

How to resist? - the neighbors shouted, those who stood by the cart and heard the volost. - Will you teach me what to do, how to do it?

Yegor became confused and fell silent, an incredible silence settled in the crowded square, only the distant ones, on the banks of the Vokhnya, hummed muffledly, like bees in a hive. And suddenly the crowd moved and came to life, seeing how Kurin easily and quickly climbed onto the cart. Taking off his hat, Gerasim bowed to the people on three sides and straightened up - tall (the squat Stulov was on his shoulder), confident, and immediately, if not realized, then somehow felt that behind his broad back was not only the burned-out Moscow - the whole of vast Russia.

Dear friends and brothers! Orthodox peasants of the Russian faith! The villain and adversary is burning and destroying Moscow, robbing and killing our brothers, and tomorrow he may even reach us. Shall we wait in obedience, like lambs before the slaughter? I don’t have my consent for this! We must fight the adversary or die!

It’s painful to fight with women and children! - a young ringing voice broke through.

“First of all, we will protect women, children and old people,” Kurin responded vividly to the voice. - As quickly as possible and as much as possible, we need to forge and heat pikes, knives, sharpen axes and scythes, so that everyone has some kind of protection. We will fortify the village, make ambushes, set up guards on the roads so that the enemy does not take us by surprise, like a cunning fox of sleepy chickens on a roost. Our brothers, both near Moscow and in the Smolensk and Kaluga provinces, boldly lay down their bellies and destroy the enemy a lot.

And where did it come from? There had never been a case before when Kurin spoke. He didn’t go into his pocket for a word, he loved to talk about everyday things, everyday things, but for words to come out of his chest in such a way, in front of people, as easily as breathing, was a wonder for Gerasim himself. Naturally, as if he had been thinking about everything that was to come for a long time and in detail, he spoke about specific matters that needed to be taken urgently.

When the approving noise died down, Stulov took half a step forward and confidently smoothed his red beard.

Dear friends! - involuntarily imitating Kurin, he shouted so that it came out louder. “We have a brave and difficult task ahead of us if we rise up against the villain.” And in order to organize ourselves correctly and act in the future in accordance with the common interests, we need to name a person responsible for this important matter, who will provide it with himself. Whatever you decide now, friends, so be it.

The head stepped back and lowered his head modestly. The reflection did not last long, the square shook, and as if at someone’s prompting, everyone shouted in one multi-voiced cry:

Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!

The decision of the gathering was unexpected not only for Stulov. Indeed, here he is, Yegor Semenovich, the volost mayor, about whom, despite his special position, no one will say a bad word. Why not a leader? Pavlovsk residents also took part in the gathering, to whose surnames the word “respected” is always added - the Urusovs, Labzins, Shchepetilnikovs and other strong and active owners, known not only in the volost and district, but even in Mother Moscow.

Of course, they direct their resourceful activities more towards personal interests, but they do not shy away from community needs and affairs. It is through their efforts that Pavlovo is growing, becoming richer, and there is hope that the village will receive the status of a posad. How close around you will you find such a richly decorated church, such noble icons, expensive frames - they all donate. And the respected owners themselves - sedate, pious, do not disdain the common people; during the prayer service, they sing passionately, until tears flow in streams down their thick beards, with the sextons in the church choir. And come on, a simple man was named leader, and with such overwhelming approval.

In a moment of danger, the subtle instinct of the people suggested who they could entrust their fate to, and the choice of the Pavlovians turned out to be correct and unmistakable. Gerasim’s excited speech at the gathering, addressed to the patriotic feelings of his fellow countrymen, certainly played the role of a kind of incendiary spark. The decisive circumstance was that, unlike others, Kurin somehow knew what was needed in this moment do, and everyone felt it.

A hundred years later, in 1912, the historian noted, without hiding his surprise, that the peasant Kurin “ruled with a deep understanding of military affairs several thousand villagers, whom he skillfully led even (how eloquently is this ‘even’!) into offensive battles...”

In the summer of 1820, the military historian Major General A.I. Mikhailovsky-Danilevsky passed through Pavlovo, preparing a voluminous chronicle of the Napoleonic invasion. He questioned the residents for a long time and in detail about the details of their courageous resistance to the conquerors and, presumably, interested and inspired by what he heard, he proposed (in the mouth of his Excellency the proposal was regarded as an order) to describe in writing and in detail the creation of a partisan detachment in the volost and the most striking episodes of its military activity.

No matter how naive the historian’s wish may seem to the illiterate peasants - to present everything as it was, the document entitled “Description of the military operations of the partisan detachment of peasants of the Vokhno vol. Bogorodsky district, Moscow province. under the leadership of Gerasim Kurin” was compiled and, no less surprisingly, has survived to this day. The even lines of the manuscript, the curly capital letters, and generally this kind of calligraphic dashing indicate an experienced clerk's hand, most likely setting out the text under dictation.

The accompanying letter, signed by Kurin, says: “And that you deigned to give me orders on your journey so that I could describe in detail the former battle in the village. Vokhne, then I have fulfilled it and leave it to your Excellency.”

With the care of a scientist, the historian made a note on the first page of the manuscript - diagonally, as resolutions are written on inboxes: “I received these papers from the peasants of the Vokhno volost Kurin and Stulov, who armed themselves in 1812 against the enemies and received the Crosses of St. George.”

The notes of the former partisans received by the general can with good reason be attributed to the genre of peculiar peasant “memoirs”, the only document of this kind, as far as is known, preserved from the time of the Patriotic War - memoirs were written mainly by nobles, at least by educated people. And so the author or authors of the “memoirs” considered it necessary to specifically explain the glaring contradiction with the choice of the detachment leader.

“We decided to choose for ourselves (at the meeting - Ed.) chief and ruler. But as in this s. Pavlov and Vokhna, too, having noticed the peasant Gerasim Matveev Kurin, because in all matters between the peasants he had particular agility, courage and courage, they hoped that in this case he would succeed. Gerasim Kurin, entering into this unexpected position for him, had the most cheerful spirit and courage, and the fire of love for the fatherland sparkled in his eyes.”

There were about two hundred volunteer warriors, those who were ready to fight the enemy or die, and Panka Kurinsky and his friend Mitya, a village orphan, categorically refused to be buried in the forest. Kurin did not insist, he understood that they would need boys - fleet-footed, brave and daring, like little devils. The first order of the “chief and overlord”: collect any weapons - pitchforks, scythes, tirelessly forge pikes. They set up pickets, appointed guards with instructions - to be on duty, taking turns, day and night, without closing their eyes. At the signal of the bell, all soldiers, except the sentinels, must gather at the fairground.

Unexpectedly, when they collected simple household belongings and settled the issue with Panka, to the delight of the latter, Matvey Kurin became stubborn, refusing to take refuge in a forest camp with women, old people and children.

The people gave you great power, but as far as I am concerned, you are not a pointer,” the old man was angry. - It’s destined - here, in my home, I will accept death.

Gerasim backed down and did not argue - you cannot over-obstinate your father, and it is not customary to go against your father’s will.

Stulov was inspired by the idea of ​​assembling a cavalry detachment, albeit a small one at first. Gerasim himself felt, although he did not show it, some awkwardness after going before the volost head and willingly supported him in such a the right thing. Egor talked with wealthy owners to temporarily borrow some of the horses, and no one refused. Moreover, they gave the community extra carts for bread, which was transported to the forest for safekeeping. Stulov noticed, however, that the best horses remained in the owner’s stables - they came in handy when, with the outbreak of hostilities, many “respected” hastily rode away under the protection of Prince Golitsyn.

Another stubborn person emerged - grandfather Antip Zvonov. He was already well over sixty, and, like Matvey Kurin, he flatly refused to go into the forest. Both women, old people, and children were glad to help in any way in the common struggle against the conquerors, and such an unquenchable flame of hatred burned in their hearts that death on the threshold of a house or in battle was perceived by the same grandfather Antipus as a holy and natural thing. Because for our native land.

Stulov assigned his grandfather to the cavalry business - to look after the horses. Yegor selected about fifty boys and men who could ride decently on a horse's back without a saddle, and for the amusement of everyone who wanted to watch, he forced them to master the only available combat technique - piercing an imaginary enemy with a pike while galloping. As if the Pavlovians had the honor of fighting in one of the medieval knightly tournaments. What could be done: none of the cavalrymen had a real saber before the first battle.

The thought of the first battle worried Kurin; a doubt crept into his mind: would the peasants, who had never smelled gunpowder, run away at the first shot? How to fight, what line of battle to choose? And he, without getting tired, admonished: the main thing is not to hesitate after the command, in unison and boldly, without hiding behind your backs, to strike everyone at once suddenly and stand firm in the fight.

That ferocious cry with which they attacked the enemy in the first skirmish was probably still imagined for a long time by the scouts-foragers who barely escaped with their feet.

Rumors about the brave actions of the Vokhno partisans, not allowing the adversary to go down, excited the area. After the battle in Subbotin and especially the massacre carried out by punitive forces in the burned Stepurin, the detachment almost tripled in one day, Pavlovo and the surrounding area were buzzing with crowds, as on the days of a large annual fair.

New arrivals from distant villages asked with greedy interest about the battles, and Pavlovsky, not considering it shameful to add (in order to inspire the newcomers, they justified the involuntary boast), colorfully described the details of the battles, emphasizing the fact that the Frenchman, it turns out, if you really scare him, runs and runs some more; they boasted of trophies: some with a saber, some with a helmet, and some with luck - and a gun.

At the height of the general merriment, the bell rang. The Pavlovskys knew that the alarm bell was a signal of alarm and immediate gathering in the square. At the first strikes of the bell, the newcomers (fear, as we know, have big eyes) rushed, dragging the soldiers of the detachment along with them, in the opposite direction from the square, downhill to the Vokhna River, behind which the saving forest could be seen, but then a cavalcade of horses flew into the square. led by Kurin, who returned from Intercession from Prince Golitsyn.

The partisans, having recognized their leader, perked up and hurried to return to the gathering place, followed by the recruits, embarrassed and looking warily at the excited and, as it seemed to them, formidable and angry leader Vokhni.

At the entrance, the guards managed to inform Kurin on what occasion the alarm sounded - the village of Nazarovo was occupied by a relatively small detachment of foragers. Kurin respectfully addressed the Cossack constable - what would be his decision? He responded casually:

What's the solution? We will strike and sweep away.

Immediately, however, it became clear that the constable did not mean a rapid cavalry attack (there were not enough forces - twenty Pokrovsk Cossacks), but a general onslaught. So they set off in a crowd, on foot and on horseback, fortunately the forest road made it possible to approach secretly. The military commander’s self-confidence embarrassed Kurin, he did not give any additional orders, and as a result, the simple plan fell through for a simple reason. The newcomers, seeing the enemy from afar, raised a hubbub and ran towards the village, several rifle shots cracked from our side, obviously safe and useless at such a distance, the Cossacks hurried to turn into an attacking chain, and all this premature fuss was enough for the French to appreciate situation, turned their horses and galloped away.

The sergeant, realizing the pointlessness of the pursuit, stopped the Cossacks, but the newcomers, inspired by the sight of the fleeing enemy, rushed forward even more than before, flashing their bast shoes and shouting threats. The trophies included several abandoned carts with grain and ten horses.

The newly minted partisans returned in an unusually high and warlike mood. Kurin's soul warmed, because he understood that it was not military training, which does not exist and which is impossible to acquire in a few days, but dedication and reckless courage - their main advantage over the enemy.

That same evening at the French headquarters in Bogorodsk the conversation was about the unpleasant situation in the Vokhno volost. When they mentioned General Milhaud’s arrogant plan to subjugate the district, relying on local agents (this is Fedka Tolstosumov - agents!), Marshal Ney became gloomy, muttered something like “moron” or “bonvian” and changed the subject. Yes, Vokhnya or whatever her name is, is an unpleasant thorn, but the world did not converge like a wedge on one village. Their first priority is to collect as much food and fodder as possible, safely transporting the convoys to Moscow, which is blocked by militias, Cossacks and these frantic hordes of peasants. And the point is not in the order of the emperor, which the faithful Marshal Ney is ready to follow strictly. The experienced military leader understood that, in view of the approaching winter, what if it would be necessary to turn Moscow into winter quarters? - we are talking about the life and death of the “great army”.

A rumor spread among how the quartermaster Lesseps complained: “I have neither bread nor flour, and even less chickens and rams.” To which Napoleon seemed to answer: “The less bread, the more glory.” The aphorism is interesting, but Ney understood perfectly well that wit is a weak help to a hungry stomach. Even his battle-hardened warriors are noticeably losing their fighting spirit, as there is a lot of recent and sad evidence of this. The same Vokhnya or whatever her name is, damn it... They chopped up a combat foraging detachment like new recruits; as soon as we send a certain number of convoys, we will still have to teach this Russian-peasant gveril a lesson.

However, the partisans also understood well that food convoys were the same weapons. This was confirmed by the events that took place on September 29 in the village of Trubitsyno. Stulov's horsemen, who were on patrol in the vicinity of Pavlov, reported that a detachment of Frenchmen stopped for a short rest in Trubitsyno. The marauders captured rich booty: cattle and a flock of sheep, carts filled with food. There were about a hundred or a little more French, mounted and on foot.

By this time, something like an amateur headquarters had formed in the partisan detachment - Kurin, Stulov, Chushkin, Ivan Karpov from somewhere near Vladimir, who served with Shchepetilnikov for hire - Gerasim entrusted him with organizing guard duty - Fyodor Tolstosumov and some others who stood out for their organizational abilities and intelligence. It was they who discussed the information received from the patrolmen in the volost hut.

The foraging detachment, apparently, did not directly threaten the volost village today. Burdened with booty, they were in a hurry to get to Bogorodsk before dark without incident.

The fires are not lit, the horses have been given food and will probably be removed soon, the watchmen reported.

Kurin asked: what should I do? Skip? Don't get involved in a fight? The detachment is strong, the enemy is angry about the failures, they will fight hard - they cannot do without bloodshed. The “Military Council” was unanimous: to attack. Wherever the adversary appears, the land is ours, and he has no place on it - the consensus was reached.

There was no time to discuss the details of the upcoming matter; it was necessary to attack before the enemy lined up in a combat marching column, so Kurin set only one, but strict condition: to maintain secrecy and silence when approaching and to strike only when commanded.

It turned out as planned: the French, again taken by surprise by Kurin’s skillful actions, resisted desperately, and yet could not withstand the powerful onslaught and ran. The documentary report on the results of the battle in Trubitsyn says this: “The battle was strong, and the enemy, seeing the disproportion of their forces... retreated and the pursued were several miles away... The cattle were returned, we got 16 horses, 8 carts filled with grain as booty. 15 enemy people were killed, 4 people were wounded on our side, but there were no killed.”

Fedka Tolstosumov was among the wounded. The wound was light, a stray bullet made a hole in his protruding ear, and Fedka was furious and suffered not so much because of the pain, but because his appearance was spoiled. How now to appear in front of the girls, whom he almost convinced that he was fascinated by bullets?.. Grandfather Antip fussed over him, bandaging his head with a clean rag, and Fedka cursed godlessly and kept asking questions:

Grandfather Antip, do you think the ear will take root and not die?

God willing, it will take root,” Antip reassured him good-naturedly, “but what a beauty in your ear?”

It’s good for you to reason, grandfather, you’ve already shown off,” Fedka gritted his teeth and swore to take cruel revenge on the offenders.

“Well, we’ll take revenge,” the grandfather agreed. “All my life I’ve been showing off with my face to the ground, it drained all the strength of life from me, but I won’t allow strangers to trample it.” I’m ready to lay down the rest of my life for it right now. Wonderful, huh?

About the next victory, Kurin immediately sent a message to Pokrov with a horse-drawn “courier”, and Prince Golitsyn included in the report to Kutuzov information about the grain train captured in the Vokhno volost. In those days, at the main headquarters, and especially at court, every news of even modest success was received with increased attention, and the prince did not skimp on reports.

Kurin ordered that the grain be taken to the community cache - then, when the war subsides, we will deal with it fairly. No one objected, only one little man in a thin Armenian from a distant village complained:

What a wealth, huh? - he said, affectionately stroking the tight sacks of grain. - And we had bread that was handed over for taxes, that the Miroders robbed, well, they swept it clean... Now we are picking up the gathering, and what’s left of it - tops, some turnips, the women add to the stew. In winter, tea, we will disappear...

“The war will end, maybe life will go differently,” Kurin said without much confidence and hurried to the square - judging by the multi-voiced hubbub, new people had arrived. By evening, the Pavlovsk partisans, who already possessed some organizational skills, managed to unite those who had arrived into detachments and placed them in the village and its environs under the canopy of tented pine trees. Under Kurin's command there were now more than five thousand foot and five hundred Stulov's cavalry. Army!

It was the sixth day of the war against the invading troops of Ney. On October 30, they defeated, partly exterminating and putting the rest to flight, a detachment of foragers in the village of Nasyrovo. And this was the last straw that overflowed the patience of the command of the expeditionary force. Ney ordered to crush the nest of resistance, to shoot the captured leaders without exception, and to raze the village to the ground.

Scouts sent in the morning near Bogorodsk under the leadership of Fedka Tolstosumov, who, after an offensive wound, was burning with the desire to fight eye to eye with the enemy, returned with the news that Kurin was anxiously awaiting: troops were marching towards Vokhni. According to the intelligence officers, the enemy should have been expected tomorrow morning.

Until late at night, Kurin was in active troubles, which included, as the military would say, the most thorough reconnaissance of the area. It is clear that the partisan leader did not know and had never heard of such words, as well as the sentries, climbing to observe tall trees, did not suspect that this is exactly what they did in Suvorov’s army. As a result, the “military council” was offered a plan for the upcoming battle, thought out in detail, and “everyone unanimously,” as emphasized in the “Memoirs,” “praised his good intention.”

Kurin's plan proceeded from the fact that the battle would have to be fought in Vokhne-Pavlov itself, having here good opportunities for both defensive and offensive actions. In the village itself and its environs it was planned to hide the main part of the detachment, which would be led by Kurin himself. Stulov's cavalrymen had to advance towards the enemy, giving way to him, and hide in the forest, waiting for a signal to attack. The last and fairly reliable line of defense, according to Kurin’s plan, was located in the center of the village along the Vokhna River. During the attack, the French would have to go downhill to this river, ford it, falling under partisan bullets - the partisan strategist saw this undertaking as difficult to implement.

And only behind the river - at a sufficient distance from it, behind another natural obstacle - the Yudinsky ravine, Kurin planned to place large detachment a thousand people under the command of Chushkin, who had proven himself well in previous battles. This decision was purely intuitive, according to the principle “God protects the best,” and Fedka Tolstosumov, who got involved in everything, did not fail to express bewilderment:

Why should they be hiding in observers at such a distance? To no avail? Let's let the villain into the village, the whole world will attack him, and then he will die.

The decision really seemed to suggest itself - the whole world would be more convenient, but Fedka was quickly calmed down, approving Kurin’s plan. As noted in the “Memoirs,” “the warriors, knowing his actions, courage and bravery, who had previously fought successfully everywhere on his orders, and then they said that we agree to everything.” Ultimately, it was Ivan Yakovlevich Chushkin’s thousand that decided the outcome of the battle.

Early in the morning, having gathered a large assembly of his “neighboring and subordinate peasants,” Kurin made a short speech:

The enemy threatens to set our village on fire, and take us captive and skin us alive. Because we repeatedly resisted him in battle. So let us try, friends, for the fatherland and for the house of the Most Holy Theotokos.

On October 1, the feast of the Intercession of the Intercessor Mother of God, a service was held in the church. divine liturgy. The usually good-natured and peace-loving Father Seraphim, this time, while delivering a sermon, burned with anger and asked Almighty God to send punishment to the Antichrist. After a general prayer service, everyone said goodbye “to each other and prepared for battle and... had spirit... encouraged by their boss Kurin, and swore before the altar not to betray each other until the last drop of blood” (“Memoirs”).

Finally, at two o'clock in the afternoon, the enemy came out from behind the forest. It is extremely interesting that the French deployed their battle formations, while both sides were cunning, hoping to lure the enemy into a disastrous trap.

The main forces of the punitive forces were located secretly in a forest near the nearest village of Gribovo, and the partisans overlooked this concentration. Meanwhile, two squadrons moved towards Pavlov. A little short of reaching the village, one stopped in an area called a run, and the second cautiously entered the village and settled down in the square. Through an interpreter they began to loudly call the head or the headman.

It was necessary to give the command for battle. And then Kurin was pushed to an unexpected decision, either by reckless recklessness or by risky mischief. After hesitating for a moment, he called two peasants, and they, as if in a peaceful delegation, headed towards the squadron. At the last second, Panka willfully joined them and it turned out very well - the boy’s presence probably immediately calmed the enemy, who had also started a rather risky game.

There is no headman, no people, everyone ran into the forest. “We were scared,” Kurin said, approaching.

Why be afraid, we are not bandits,” the translator supported the diplomatic conversation. - In your village, we know that people are smart, commercial, we can offer profitable deals. Call your bosses.

“However, the brave scoundrels,” thought Kurin, “want to capture the leaders without any hassle... If only they knew that the main one is standing in front of them.”

Why do you need bosses?

We wanted to negotiate and trade. We need flour, oats, cereals and other things, and for it we will pay well, as much as you like, in Russian money.

Napoleon, by the way, also ordered the soldiers to be paid with fake Russian banknotes, printed in France on the eve of the campaign, so the foragers did not need money.

Gerasim, maintaining a friendly face, feigned extreme interest, bowed and said sedately, imitating a merchant asking the price at an auction:

There is bread, and oats, and so on. Wow, we keep community supplies in the peasant yard. That's where we'll go. What will the price be?

The translator perked up:

Let's look at the goods, your bosses will come out, we'll negotiate, and then... what do you say? - and we’ll shake hands.

Well, if that’s the case...” Kurin agreed and quietly looked around to see if anyone, God forbid, had gotten out into the enemy’s sight? - Well, if that’s the case, let’s go to the courtyard, maybe we’ll bargain, maybe we’ll hit.

The translator mumbled something with his hand, the tension visibly subsided, fifteen or twenty people dismounted, clanking their sabers. While negotiations were going on between the French, Kurin managed to whisper to Panka: “Run to Uncle Yegor, tell him to hit those on the run,” he turned and with an even, calm step led the French into the trap.

As soon as the cavalrymen turned into the nearest alley, they were immediately surrounded and crushed, those in the square were targeted with rifles and quickly rushed into hand-to-hand combat. The deserted square was filled with people in an instant.

Some of the cavalrymen nevertheless escaped from the jam and galloped to the run, where the second squadron was anxiously bustling around.

Chase the villain, don't let him come to his senses! - Kurin commanded and encouraged. He was already on his mare, a bloody saber in his hands. Without being late or hesitating, Stulov’s cavalry struck the second squadron, completing the rout.

Excited by the battle and luck, the partisans literally flew into Gribovo on the shoulders of those escaping and came face to face with the main and quite numerous forces of the French. This, apparently, was the tactical plan - to lure them into a trap, although it was hardly intended to sacrifice almost two squadrons.

The sight of the troops lined up in battle formations confused the peasants. Stulov’s detachment was the first to come under targeted fire, several people fell dead. The volley rang out again. The partisans backed away, turned around, and began to flee.

Now the French gave chase. Near the Vokhni River, at that pre-planned defensive line, Kurin and Stulov, rushing on horseback among the fleeing, managed to stop part of the detachment; the riflemen met their pursuers with rare but noticeable shots. However, in open battle the advantage of the regular units over the peasants crowding in disarray very soon became evident. Several clear and swift maneuvers on the flanks, and the French, not embarrassed by the narrow Vokhnya, which they easily crossed, almost closed the ring. An inevitable and imminent reprisal was brewing.

Stulov managed to gather at least two hundred horsemen around him, and Gerasim, realizing that delay was death! - ordered: “Egor, let’s break through to Yudinsky’s enemy. - And with all the power of his lungs, so that as many partisans as possible could hear him, he shouted. - For a breakthrough! To Yudinsky's enemy! To Chushkin!

A simple and life-saving command - where to run, immediately brought most of the people paralyzed by fear to their senses, the thin chains that closed the encirclement ring were instantly overturned in a narrow area, and the flight to the ravine began. Either the French did not want to come to terms with such an unexpectedly eluded victory, or they were enraged by the sight of the village square strewn with the corpses of their comrades, but they, breaking up their ranks, rushed in pursuit.

The partisans sitting in ambush under Chushkin’s command watched with obvious approval the rapid run of their comrades, since they took this maneuver not for forced flight, but for Kurin’s previously envisaged plan, and therefore at the right moment, with a light heart, without fear, the entire thousandth mass fell on the substituted the enemy flank, and the fate of the battle, as happens in such cases, was instantly and finally decided.

The “memoirist” summarizes: “The enemy was thrown into disarray by Chushkin’s unexpected invasion, took to flight and was driven 8 miles away by Kurin, Stulov and Chushkin and was saved by the darkness of the night from complete defeat, hiding in the forests... Our invincible hero Gerasim Kurin was successful in all these battles He commanded everywhere himself, and in the last battle of October 1st, he personally separated the head from the shoulders of one French army officer and pierced two privates in the chest with a lance. In all these seven days, eight people died from his timid hand, for he was armed on horseback with a saber, a pike and two pistols. On our side, 12 people were killed and 20 wounded.” Ney, having received Napoleon's order to withdraw his troops to Moscow, retreated so quickly that when, after the general battle of Vokhnensky, Kurin's detachment broke into Bogorodsk the next day, his dashing and tasteful partisans were quite surprised by the complete absence of the enemy. The incensed Fedka Tolstosumov rushed through the streets and alleys shouting: “Where is the adversary, where is the villain?”, and fervently encouraged Kurin to go straight to Moscow and strike at Bonaparte himself. In addition to the understandable hatred of the enemy, he was also burned with resentment for the awkward wound (his ear hung like a dried mushroom) and for the fear and humiliation suffered in captivity.

The events of those days are reflected in the song that circulated in the area after the war:

And Vokhny Sotsky Chushkin
He knocked out three guns at once,
And Mikhailov with Obraztsov
Didn't waste words
I called the alarm bell on everyone
And captured the uhlans
Like heroes, all peasants
Inflicted flaws on the enemy.
His Serene Highness gave them as a reward
Cross and a hundred rubles butt.

Little is known about the subsequent life of Gerasim Kurin and his military associates. In the official report about the “brave and commendable actions of the villagers of the Moscow province, who unanimously and courageously took up arms in entire villages against the parties sent from the enemy to rob and incite parties,” it was indicated that “the commanding people mentioned in it were most highly ordered to be distinguished with the Cross of St. George.”

Among those “mentioned therein” were Kurin and Stulov. They were presented with awards in May 1813 in Moscow. At the same time, apparently, a portrait of Kurin was painted by the battle painter A. Smirnov.

Kurin and Stulov were also given the title of “honorary citizen”, given to merchants of the first and second guilds, artists and employees - not from the nobility. It is unknown which of the listed classes they were assigned to; in any case, neither Kurin nor the unlucky and brave Fyodor Tolstosumov became moneybags.

The historian Mikhailovsky-Danilevsky, who came to Pavlovo, was probably guided by the best intentions, collecting materials on the spot from eyewitnesses and participants in the events. However, we will search in vain in his extensive four-volume “Description of the Patriotic War of 1812” for details of the courageous battle of the Vokhno peasants with Ney’s cohorts, as well as the names of the peasants themselves. Of all the heroes who emerged from the people, only Vasilisa Kozhina, the famous elder from the farm of Gorshkov, Smolensk province, is named.

Realizing that he would cause a condescending smile from the chief censor and reader - the Tsar, the historian writes with obvious irony that among the rural “Amazons”, the elder Vasilisa, a stout woman with a long French saber hung over her shoulder, became more famous than others for her fierceness against the enemy. French overcoat." Indeed, a comical picture: a portly woman with a long saber over her shoulder. The “Description” speaks about the rest in general and impersonal terms: heroes, brave men, people.

Thousands fell nameless, but even they, according to the poet, dead and voiceless, had one consolation - that the Motherland was saved. “The earth has sucked all the forces of life out of me, but I won’t allow strangers to trample it,” said an old peasant from Gerasim Kurin’s detachment who had worked hard all his life. What led them to the mortal and just battle, even those oppressed and disadvantaged, was the holy feeling of love for the Motherland, for the land of their fathers and grandfathers.