Translation from German:

Baron Münchhausen by Rudolf Erich Raspe

The cover design is illustrated by Mikhail Kurdyumov

Artist Marina Mosiyash

By edition:

Raspe R. E. Travels and adventures of Baron Munchausen. - St. Petersburg: Printing house br. Panteleev, 1902.

© Book Club "Family Leisure Club", edition in Russian, 2010, 2012

© Book Club "Family Leisure Club", artwork, 2010

* * *

Guide for funny people

The book you are holding in your hands is unique. And not only because it occupies an honorable place in the history of European literature, but also because it was created by both the author and his main character. Both of them were real people, and disputes among specialists still do not subside, whose role in the birth of "Tales of Baron Munchausen about his amazing travels and campaigns in Russia" is more important: the philologist and expert on antiquities Rudolf Erich Raspe (1737–1794) or Baron Jerome Carl Friedrich von Munchausen (1720-1797). One way or another, but the book was a resounding success not only among contemporaries, but also among descendants, gave rise to many imitations, and in our time has been filmed more than once. And no wonder - the bewitching skill with which these amazing and fantastic stories about travels and adventures, full of humor and lively details, were written, and before that, probably told in a circle of friends, could not leave readers indifferent.

Who are these two, who knew each other well, maintained friendly relations for many years, and then severely quarreled over the famous book that immortalized the names of both? Their fates, like the fates of many Europeans in the second half of the turbulent 18th century, can in themselves form the plot of a fascinating novel.

The first of the ancestors of Baron Hieronymus Karl Friedrich von Munchausen, a descendant of an ancient Saxon knightly family, took part in a crusade led by Frederick Barbarossa in the 12th century. One of his sons ended up in a monastery, was released from there by imperial decree, and from him, who received the nickname Munchausen (literally "monastery"), which later became a surname, a new branch of an old family began, and on the coat of arms of all Munchausen from that time they began to depict monk with staff and book. Among them were nobles and generals, ministers and even the founder of the famous Göttingen University in Germany.

Hieronymus Karl Friedrich was born on the estate of Bodenwerder near Hannover and at the age of fifteen entered the service of the sovereign Duke of Brunswick-Wolfenbüttel Ferdinand Albrecht II as a page. Two years later, Munchausen had to go to Russia with the duke's son, who became the fiancé of Princess Anna Leopoldovna, whom the childless Empress Anna Ioannovna, who ruled at that time in Russia, wanted to transfer power. However, the matchmaking dragged on for several years, and in the meantime, the young duke managed to take part in the wars waged at that time by the Russian Empire with Turkey and Sweden. Of course, the young page accompanied him everywhere. Only in 1739 did the wedding of Duke Anton Ulrich and Anna Leopoldovna take place, Munchausen, freed from the duties of a page, entered the rank of cornet in the Braunschweig cuirassier regiment and a year later became lieutenant and commander of the first elite company of cuirassiers.

However, in 1741, Elizabeth, the daughter of Peter I, seized power in Russia, and Prince Anton Ulrich and his wife landed in the Riga Castle, and Lieutenant Munchausen became the unwitting guard of his former high patrons. His brilliantly started career was interrupted - the next officer rank, the baron, with great difficulty, received only in 1750, despite the reputation of an impeccable officer. But long before that, Munchausen had a chance to command a guard of honor that met the bride of the heir to the Russian throne - Sophia - Friederike of Anhalt-Zerbst - the future Empress Catherine II.

In 1752, the baron, having taken a year's leave from service, returned to his native Bodenwerden, a provincial town, which for several centuries, together with the surrounding area, was the property of the Munchausen family. However, the vacation dragged on for several years, and Jerome Karl Friedrich submitted a letter of resignation to the Military Collegium and never returned to Russia.

From that time on, the baron led a peaceful life as a prosperous landowner - he met with neighbors-landowners, hunted in the surrounding forests and fields, and occasionally traveled to the neighboring cities of Hannover and Göttingen. On his estate, Munchausen built a special pavilion hung with hunting trophies to receive friends there. After his death, this building was nicknamed the "Pavilion of Lies" - it was there that the owner, a born storyteller and improviser, "treated" guests with incredible stories about his adventures in Russia. Here is how a contemporary described the evening in the “pavilion of lies”, which gathered many admirers of the baron: “Usually he began to talk after dinner, lighting his huge meerschaum pipe with a short mouthpiece and placing a smoking glass of punch in front of him ... The farther, the more expressively he gestured, twisted his little dandy wig on his head, his face became more and more animated and reddened, and he, usually a very truthful person, at that moment wonderfully embodied his fantasies in his faces.

One of the baron's regular listeners was his good friend from Hanover, Rudolf Erich Raspe, one of the most educated people of his time, who studied the natural sciences and philology in Göttingen and Leipzig, an expert in philosophy and archeology, a writer and literary historian. In those years, Raspe served as a secretary in the university library, was the publisher of the works of the philosopher Leibniz and the author of one of the first German chivalric novels, Hermin and Gunilda. In 1767, Raspe became a professor at the Carolinum University and superintendent of the antiquarian and coin office. He spent a lot of time traveling around the German lands in search of various rarities, coins and ancient manuscripts for the collection of the Landgrave of Kassel. At the same time, Raspe was poor, often got into debt and once could not resist - he sold part of the coins from the Landgrave's collection in order to improve his financial situation. The loss was discovered, the authorities issued a warrant for the arrest of the custodian, and the guards came to his house. But then something almost unbelievable happened. The people who came to arrest Raspe were literally shocked by his gift for storytelling and heard such incredible stories that they gave him the opportunity to flee the city.

Thus, Raspe and Munchausen were worthy of each other - both were writers of fantastic plots and masters of oral storytelling. Raspe moved to London, where he continued to live in poverty until he came up with a brilliant idea - to publish the stories told by his friend Munchausen in English. In the book, published without the name of the author, Raspe included several stories already known in Germany that belonged to Munchausen - they were published earlier in the collection "Guide for merry people." But to these stories he added a few of his own, borrowing the plots of Greek, Roman and Oriental anecdotes and turning the book into an integral work, united by the figure of the narrator.

The book was a huge success. One after another, new editions came out, bringing impressive sums to the author, and the name of Baron Munchausen soon became a household name in England for designating a virtuoso storyteller-liar, which, of course, did not give the slightest pleasure to a descendant of the crusaders and a worthy officer of the Russian service, which was the real Munchausen.

The baron's patience ran out when Raspe's book appeared in Germany. In a German translation, his full name was given and details of his life were given, which led Munchausen into an indescribable rage. At first, he decided to challenge Raspe to a duel, but since he was inaccessible, he sued him for damaging the nobleman's honor.

The court, however, rejected the baron's claim, as the author's name was not indicated in the book. In the meantime, the creation of Raspe gained such popularity in the German lands that onlookers began to flock to Bodenwerder to gawk at the “liar baron”. Munchausen had to put up a cordon of servants around the house to keep out curious burghers.

So even during his lifetime, without doing anything reprehensible in his lifetime, Baron Munchausen turned into a literary character that obscured his true image. The nickname “King of Liars” and “Liar of Liars” stuck to him, and even relatives who knew the Baron well turned away from him, accusing him of dishonoring their name.

The real Hieronymus Karl Friedrich von Munchausen ended his days alone in an empty and cold house, completely ruined. The sick baron was cared for by a single maid; when, shortly before his death, she helped the frail old man change his shoes and discovered that Munchausen was missing two toes, the baron laughed heartily and let out his last joke: “I lost them while hunting in Russia - they were bitten off by a polar bear! »

What about Raspe? He left this world three years before his hero. With the proceeds from the sale of books about Munchausen, the writer bought a mine in Ireland, but did not even have time to start working on coal, when he contracted typhus, before which the medicine of that time was powerless.

Today in Bodenwerder, a street, a restaurant, a hotel, a pharmacy and even a cinema bear the name of Munchausen. There is also a monument - a fountain, depicting the baron sitting on half a horse, greedily crouched on the water. The Munchausen estate today houses the city hall, and his museum is open in the school building. Over the past two centuries, about six hundred books have been published in different countries with continuations of Munchausen's adventures and about himself. Moreover, some of them were written by his descendants - those who were once ashamed of their relationship with the "liar baron".

Part I
Adventures on land

Adventure one

I went straight from home to Russia, in the very middle of winter, arguing quite correctly that in the winter season in the north of Germany, Poland, Courland and Livonia, the roads, which, according to the testimony of all travelers, are even deadlier than the roads leading to the temple of Virtue, should to improve thanks to snow and frost - without any interference from those in power, who are obliged to take care of the conveniences of the population.

I rode. This is the most practical way of communication, of course, with excellent qualities of both horse and rider. Here, in any case, you will not suddenly get involved in a duel with some scrupulous German postmaster, and the thirsty postman will not arbitrarily deliver you on the way to every tavern. I dressed fairly lightly for the journey, and the cold was plaguing me as I moved to the northeast.

One can imagine how the unfortunate old man, whom I accidentally stumbled upon in Poland, felt in such a cold and bad weather. He lay on the bare ground at the edge of the road, trembling, helpless, barely covering his nakedness with a miserable rag, unable to protect him from the piercing northeast wind.

I felt terribly sorry for the poor man. I myself was completely numb, but nevertheless threw my cloak over him.

After that, as if nothing had happened, I drove on, not stopping until the night overtook me, enveloping everything around with impenetrable darkness. No light, no sound, which would indicate the proximity of the village. Everything around was covered with snow, I lost my way and got lost.

Horse riding exhausted me to the point of exhaustion. I had to get off the horse, which I tied to some kind of strong stake sticking out of the snowdrift.

Taking with me, for the sake of safety, my pistols, I lay down nearby on the snow and fell asleep so soundly that I only woke up in broad daylight.

Imagine my astonishment when I found myself in the churchyard! At first I decided that my horse was out of the trail. But then I heard somewhere upstairs a horse neighing. I raise my eyes and see: my horse is hanging on a rein tied to the steeple of the bell tower.

Then I figured out what was going on. The village was completely covered with snow during the night, then the weather changed dramatically. During my sleep, I imperceptibly descended lower and lower as the snow melted, until I reached solid ground; and what I took in the dark for a broken tree sticking out of a snowdrift turned out to be the steeple of a bell tower with a weather vane, and my horse was tied to it.

Without thinking for a long time, I grabbed a pistol, shot at the belt on which the poor animal dangled, and, having safely received it back into my possession, continued on my way.

Everything went well until I got to Russia, where in winter it is not at all customary to ride a horse.

My rule is to adapt to the customs of the country where fate takes me; so I took out a one-horse sledge and, cheered up, drove to Petersburg.

* * *

I can’t remember exactly where one incident happened to me: in Estonia or Ingermanland, I only know for sure that it happened in a dense forest. A terrible hardened wolf chased after me. Driven by a severe winter hunger, he soon overtook me, and it seemed to me that there was no salvation. Automatically, I threw myself face down into the sledge, leaving the horse to rescue us both as she saw fit.

Then something happened that I vaguely wished for, not daring, however, to count on such a happy outcome.

The wolf really did not pay any attention to my skinny body, but, jumping over me, furiously attacked the horse, tore to pieces and instantly swallowed the entire back of the unfortunate animal, which continued to rush at full speed, beside himself with fear and pain.

Safely avoiding inevitable death, I quietly raised my head and saw with horror that the hungry beast was biting further and further into its prey. After giving him time to dig deeper into the insides of the horse, I hit the wolf with a whip. With fright, he rushed forward as fast as he could; then the corpse of the horse flopped to the ground, and the wolf found himself in her skin and yoke. But I did not stop mercilessly whipping him, and thus both of us, healthy and unharmed, rushed like an arrow to Petersburg, completely against our mutual aspirations and to the considerable amazement of those we met.

* * *

I will not, gracious sirs, bore you with empty chatter, describing the order in the luxurious Russian capital, the flourishing of the sciences and arts in it and all its sights, and even less would I like to acquaint you with intrigues and amusing adventures in the chosen Petersburg society, where, between by the way, it is customary for the mistress of the house, when meeting a guest, to certainly bring him a glass of vodka from her hands and smack loudly with him.

On the contrary, I intend to draw your attention to more worthy and noble subjects, such as dogs and horses, for which I have always been a passionate hunter, and besides, to foxes, wolves and bears, found in Russia, like any other game. , in such perfect abundance, of which they have no idea in other countries.

Then we will finally move on to pleasure trips, gallant amusements and glorious deeds, which adorn the nobleman better than scraps of gibberish called Greek and Latin, or various incense products, coques and curlicues invented by French clever men and hairdressers.

Since I could not enter the army immediately, I had about two months of free time, which I was free to spend in a cheerful company, like my money, in the most noble manner, befitting my rank.

Our nights were spent playing or reveling with the clinking of full glasses.

The cold climate of Russia and the mores of the Russian nation have contributed to the fact that here the bottle has taken a much more honorable position among social pleasures than that which it occupies in our sober Germany. It is no wonder that I met among Russian true virtuosos in the noble art of drinking. However, all of them were no match for one gray-bearded general with a copper-red face, who usually dined with us at the common table.

This old man lost the upper part of his skull in a battle with the Turks, therefore, as soon as an unfamiliar face appeared in our society, he apologized with the most sincere courtesy for being forced to sit at the table without taking off his hat. At dinner, the general had a habit of emptying several decanters of vodka, and at the end he usually washed down this portion with a bottle of arrack, or, depending on the circumstances, doubled it. Nevertheless, the venerable veteran did not get drunk at all.

Do you think it goes beyond any conceivable limits?

I'm sorry, gentlemen; I myself was at a loss for a long time, not knowing how to explain such oddities, until one accident gave me the key to this curious riddle.

The fact is that our drinking companion from time to time, as if mechanically, lifted his hat slightly. I often saw this gesture, however, without attaching any significance to it. That the general's forehead grew hot was as natural as the old man's refreshing head.

Finally, I managed to notice that, together with the hat, he lifted the silver plate attached to it, which replaced the torn off top of his skull. At the same time, the wine vapors from the strong drinks he had drunk disappeared, rushing up in a light cloud.

Thus, the incomprehensible was explained.

I communicated this to some bosom friends, offering to confirm my outlandish discovery that same evening by visual experience.

With a pipe in my hand, stealthily sneaking up behind the old man, I waited until he took off his hat, and then, with the help of a piece of paper, set fire to the rising wine vapors.

We were immediately presented with an unprecedented and beautiful sight. In an instant, the fumes above our hero's head turned into a column of flame, and part of the fumes that remained above the old man's hair, instantly flaring up, formed a blue radiance in the form of a halo around the head.

My experience, of course, could not be overlooked by him; however, the general not only did not get angry, but even allowed us to repeat these pranks from then on. Every time a new person appeared at our table, we hurried to arrange this stunning spectacle for him, and wanting to give the latter even more brilliance, we began vying with each other to offer the general a bet on a bottle of arak, while trying to deliberately lose to him and forced him to drink all the amount of it alone the wine he won.

Finally, the halo of the veteran has grown to such an extent that its owner no longer has a place among mere mortals. One fine day, he left our mortal world, probably in order to move to Valhalla and feast there among the heroes who have acquired immortality.

Adventure two

I pass over in silence many other funny pranks in which, depending on various circumstances, we played the role of either actors or spectators. Now it is in my mind to amuse my listeners with a story of incomparably more amazing and interesting hunting adventures.

It would be superfluous to mention that I liked most of all to keep company with people who had a passion for the noble game of hunting and knew a lot about it. The constant change of impressions brought by hunting, as well as the extraordinary happiness that accompanied me in my hunting adventures, make these memories of the times of my youth extremely interesting.

One morning, looking out of my bedroom window, I gasped: the large pond next door was full of wild ducks.

I grabbed, without wasting a moment, the gun, which was standing right there in the corner, and so swiftly ran down the stairs that I cracked my face on the door frame. Sparks shot from my eyes, but I couldn't linger.

Having reached the pond at a distance of a shot, I was about to take aim, when suddenly, to my despair, I was convinced that a flint had bounced off my gun with a cruel blow against the door.

What was left for me to do? It was impossible to waste time. Fortunately, I remembered what had just happened to my eyes. Swiftly cocking the trigger, I took aim at the tempting prey and slammed my fist into my eye. From a strong blow, sparks again flew out of it, the gunpowder ignited, a shot rang out, and I put five pairs of ducks, four Corydalis and two coots in place.

* * *

The presence of mind is the main thing in daring daring. Soldiers and sailors often owed their salvation to him, but it also rescues hunters all the time.

I remember how one day, wandering along the shore of the lake, I again saw from fifty wild ducks, which this time were scattered over such a vast area that it was impossible to count on killing more than two or three with one shot. Unfortunately, there was one last charge left in my gun; meanwhile, I had an irresistible desire to carry home without fail all the game that had flown onto the lake, since I expected a rather large and pleasant company by dinner.

Suddenly a happy thought occurred to me. There was a piece of ham fat left in my hunting bag - the rest of the provisions taken from home. I took a dog harness, unraveled it to make it as long as possible, and tied a piece of bacon to the end.

Hiding in the coastal reeds, I threw my simple bait into the water and waited.

Soon, to my joy, she was spotted by one of the ducks. The bird hurriedly swam towards her and greedily swallowed this tasty treat. Other ducks rushed after the first.

The slippery fat passed very quickly through all the insides of the duck and, leaving it from the other end, again found itself in the water, where it was swallowed a second time by another, then by a third bird, and so on by all in turn until the very last one.

In just a few minutes, my bait made a journey through the entrails of all the ducks, and the rope, fortunately, did not break and the birds (every one!) were strung on it like beads.

And now, calmly pulling out my uncomplicated tackle with the caught game on the shore, I wrapped it all around, and then moved to my house.

Walked and walked and tired. It was a long way, and it was becoming too much for me to drag such a lot of prey, and I already began to regret my insatiability. But here the burden that constrained me brought me tremendous relief. All ducks were still alive! Having recovered a little from fright and bewilderment, they suddenly flapped their wings and tried to soar into the sky.

Anyone else in my place would be confused; I took advantage of this unexpected turn of affairs and, having risen above the ground, began to act in the air with the skirts of my camisole like an oar in order to direct the flight to my home. When they were already flying over it, in order to descend to the ground, in a hurry, I began to alternately turn the necks of my ducks. This operation presented no small difficulty, because I was forced to start from the very front, and if my desperate attempt succeeded, it was only due to bold somersaults in the air, which I repeated as many times as I had birds. Wringing the neck of the last duck, I slowly descended into the chimney and plopped right on the kitchen hearth, which, fortunately for me, had not yet been melted.

It is difficult to describe the commotion caused in the kitchen by my appearance in such an unusual manner. However, the fright of the kitchen servants turned into joy when the servants, in addition to their master, also saw his rich booty, which promised an abundant treat for guests and household members.

* * *

I had a similar case with a flock of partridges.

I went hunting to try out a new gun and had already shot the entire supply of shot, when suddenly, no longer hoping, I saw a flock of partridges take off. The desire to get a few of them that same evening at my table suggested to me one wonderful remedy, which I advise you, gentlemen, to resort to under similar circumstances.

Noticing where the game had landed, I hastily loaded the gun instead of lead with a ramrod, the end of which I hastily sharpened. After that, I went to the partridges and shot at them at the moment when they fluttered. Just a few paces away, my ramrod landed on the ground with seven birds strung on it, which must have been quite surprised to find themselves so suddenly on a makeshift spit.

No wonder it is said: "Trust in God, but don't make a mistake yourself." But the miracle is not over yet. Picking up the pierced birds from the ground, I just wanted to hide them in my hunting bag, when I suddenly noticed that they were already roasted on a ramrod, which was red hot when fired. The feathers fell from them, and the meat was reddened so appetizingly that all that remained was to put them on a dish and serve them. At the same time, the game has acquired a special piquant flavor that is liked by a sophisticated gourmet.

Another time I came across a magnificent silver fox in one of the dense forests of Russia. It would be a pity to ruin her precious fur by piercing it with a bullet or a shotgun shell. The gossip-fox stood clinging to a tree.

In an instant I pulled the bullet from my gun, replaced it with a large carpenter's nail, fired and hit so well that I nailed the fluffy tail of a beautiful beast to a tree trunk. After that, calmly approaching the fox, I took my hunting knife, cut her skin crosswise across the face and let's whip the animal with a whip. The fox quickly jumped out of its skin and was like that. I returned home with a rich trophy.

* * *

Chance and luck often correct our mistakes; I became convinced of this shortly after the incident.

Once I saw in the thicket of the forest a young boar, followed by his uterus. When I fired at them, I unfortunately missed. Just look: what a miracle? After the shot, the cub flies away with all its might, and the uterus stands still as if rooted to the spot.

Coming closer, I took a closer look at her and made sure that she was blind from old age, which is why she held her teeth to the tail of a pig that served her as a guide - in fulfillment of her filial duty. The pig ran after him when the bullet, which flew so well for them and so unsuccessfully for me - between the uterus and the cub, broke this living tether. The wounded guide pig, which had taken flight, stopped pulling the pig after him, and she, naturally, stopped in bewilderment, not letting go of the remnant of the shot pig's tail from her mouth. Without thinking twice, I grabbed this tip and calmly led the blind female boar to my home - without the slightest resistance from the helpless old animal.

* * *

No matter how terrible wild pigs are, boars are much more ferocious and dangerous than them.

Once I, not ready for either attack or defense, stumbled out of the blue in the forest on a seasoned boar. I barely managed to escape from him behind a mighty oak. Then the enraged animal, thinking to strike me, struck the tree trunk with such force that its fangs sank deep into the tree and stuck in it.

“Wait a minute,” I thought, “now you can’t escape.”

Grabbing a stone, I began to drive the boar's tusks even deeper into the hard oak. No matter how the beast was torn from pain and rage, its desperate efforts did not lead to anything. And this adversary, willy-nilly, had to wait for my return from the neighboring village, where I ran for ropes and a cart in order to bring him alive to my home, which I managed to do without much difficulty.

* * *

Of course, gracious sovereigns, have you heard about Saint Hubert, the brave patron of hunters and shooters, and also about the noble deer that appeared to him in the forest with a holy cross between his horns?

Every year, in a daring company, I diligently paid honor and praise to the hunting patron and a hundred times I saw the sacred deer either painted in churches or embroidered on the coats of arms of knights. Observing the rules of honor and conscience of a good hunter, I can hardly say for sure whether such deer with crosses were found only before, or whether they still exist today. But here's what happened once with me myself.

When I had fired all my charges while hunting, suddenly a wonderful deer seemed to spring up in front of me from the ground. He stands and looks at me, so boldly, as if he knows that my bandolier and shotgun are completely empty.

It became unbearable for me: I loaded the gun with one gunpowder, and instead of shot, I sprinkled a handful of cherry pits on it, which I got right there, hastily picking a few cherries and peeling the pulp. With this charge, I shot at the deer and hit him right on the top of his head between the antlers.

For a moment he was stunned - he staggered, fell, but jumped up and - God forbid, legs.

A year or two later I was hunting in the same forest; all of a sudden, what do you think? - out of nowhere a stately deer, and between its horns a wonderful cherry tree, that way over ten feet. I immediately remembered my old adventure, and since from that day on I considered this animal my property, I killed him with a well-aimed shot.

Thus, in addition to the roast, a wonderful dessert was also obtained, because the tree was completely strewn with ruddy cherries, the tastiest of which I had not tasted until that time.

Yes, my lords, who knows, perhaps, some ardent St. Nimrod - the abbot of a monastery or a bishop, a passionate lover of hunting - in the same manner decorated with a cross between the antlers of a deer of St. Hubert! After all, spiritual persons from time immemorial have been famous for their art in decorating other people's foreheads, and even now they zealously maintain this glory. And a good hunter in a hot moment does not disassemble anything and stops at nothing, just not to lose tasty prey from the hands. I judge by myself, because I myself have been subjected to temptations of this kind more than once. And what troubles I got into, it is so incomprehensible to the mind!

For example, how would you like at least such an incident?

Once, when I was in Poland, I was caught hunting in the forest in the evening twilight. Trouble: no light of God in heaven, no gunpowder in the flask! I turned back home, when suddenly a terrible bear with an open mouth comes down from the forest thicket, and straight at me.

In vain I rummaged through my pockets with nimble fingers, hoping to find the remains of gunpowder and lead. I came across only two rifle flints, which hunters usually take in reserve. Grabbing one of these flints, I threw it with all my might into the open mouth of the bear with such force and dexterity that the pebble slipped into the very throat.

Not particularly pleased with my treat, the bear turned left in a circle, standing on all fours with his back to me, which I took advantage of to drive a second flint into him from the other end. Launched no less deftly, the pebble not only hit its intended purpose, but in the bear's spacious belly it also hit the first one with all its might. There was a deafening crack, a flash of fire, and the beast was instantly torn apart.

It is said that a skillful a posteriore argument, given by the way, and in addition, well collided with an a priori argument, smashed without a trace with no less success other ferocious scientists and philosophers with bearish habits. As for me, although this time I remained healthy and unharmed, I would not want to do the same thing a second time or run into a bear again, having no other means of defense in reserve.

HORSE ON THE ROOF

I went to Russia on horseback. It was winter. It was snowing.

The horse was tired and began to stumble. I really wanted to sleep. I nearly fell off my seat from exhaustion. But in vain did I look for lodging for the night: on the way I did not come across a single village. What was to be done?

I had to spend the night in an open field.

There is no bush or tree around. Only a small column stuck out from under the snow.

I somehow tied my frozen horse to this post, and I myself lay down right there in the snow and fell asleep.

I slept for a long time, and when I woke up, I saw that I was not lying in a field, but in a village, or rather, in a small town, houses surrounded me on all sides.

What's happened? Where am I? How could these houses grow here in one night?

And where did my horse go?

For a long time I did not understand what had happened. Suddenly I hear a familiar growl. This is my horse neighing.

But where is he?

The whining comes from somewhere above.

I raise my head - and what?

My horse is hanging on the roof of the bell tower! He is tied to the very cross!

In one minute, I realized what it was.

Last night, this whole town, with all the people and houses, was covered with deep snow, and only the top of the cross stuck out.

I did not know that it was a cross, it seemed to me that it was a small column, and I tied my tired horse to it! And at night, while I was sleeping, a strong thaw began, the snow melted, and I imperceptibly sank to the ground.

But my poor horse remained up there, on the roof. Tied to the cross of the bell tower, he could not descend to the ground.

What to do?

Without hesitation, I grab a pistol, aim accurately and hit right in the bridle, because I have always been an excellent shooter.

Bridle - in half.

The horse quickly comes down to me.

I jump on it and, like the wind, I jump forward.

WOLF HARNESSED TO A SLED

But in winter it is inconvenient to ride a horse - it is much better to travel in a sleigh. I bought myself a very good sleigh and quickly rushed through the soft snow.

By evening I entered the forest. I was already beginning to doze, when I suddenly heard the alarming neighing of a horse. I looked back and by the light of the moon I saw a terrible wolf, which, with its wide-toothed mouth, was running after my sleigh.

There was no hope for salvation.

I lay down on the bottom of the sleigh and closed my eyes in fear.

My horse ran like crazy. The clicking of wolf teeth was heard just above my ear.

But, fortunately, the wolf did not pay any attention to me.

He jumped over the sled - right over my head - and attacked my poor horse.

In one minute the hindquarters of my horse disappeared into his voracious mouth.

The front part of horror and pain continued to gallop forward.

The wolf was eating into my horse deeper and deeper.

When I came to my senses, I grabbed the whip and, without losing a moment, began to whip the insatiable beast.

He howled and lunged forward.

The front part of the horse, not yet eaten by the wolf, fell out of the harness into the snow, and the wolf was in its place - in shafts and in a horse harness!

He could not escape from this harness: he was harnessed like a horse.

I kept hitting him with all my might.

He raced on and on, dragging my sleigh behind him.

We rushed so fast that in two or three hours we entered Petersburg at a gallop.

The astonished residents of St. Petersburg ran out in droves to look at the hero, who, instead of a horse, harnessed a ferocious wolf to his sleigh. I had a good life in St. Petersburg.

SPARKS FROM THE EYES

I often went hunting and now I recall with pleasure that merry time when so many wonderful stories happened to me almost every day.

One story was very funny.

The fact is that from the window of my bedroom I could see a vast pond, where there was a lot of all kinds of game.

A+A-

The Adventures of Baron Munchausen - Raspe R.E.

A story about the incredible adventures of Baron Munchausen on land and at sea, in different countries and even on the moon. The baron's stories are too implausible, so his listeners always laughed and did not believe. In all these adventures, Munhausen appears bold, dexterous and resourceful.

A little old man with a long nose sits by the fireplace and talks about his adventures. His listeners laugh right in his eyes:

Oh yes Munchausen! That's the baron! But he doesn't even look at them.

He calmly continues to tell how he flew to the moon, how he lived among three-legged people, how he was swallowed by a huge fish, how his head was torn off.

Once a passer-by was listening and listening to him and suddenly shouted:

All this is fiction! There was none of what you're talking about. The old man frowned and answered importantly:

Those counts, barons, princes and sultans, whom I had the honor to call my best friends, always said that I was the most truthful person on earth. Louder laughter all around.

Munchausen is a truthful man! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha! Ha ha ha!

And Munchausen, as if nothing had happened, continued to talk about what a wonderful tree grew on the head of a deer - a Tree? .. On the head of a deer ?!

Yes. Cherry. And on the cherry tree. So juicy and sweet...

All of these stories are printed here in this book. Read them and judge for yourself whether a man on earth was more truthful than Baron Munchausen.

Horse on the roof

I went to Russia on horseback. It was winter. It was snowing.

The horse was tired and began to stumble. I really wanted to sleep. I nearly fell off my seat from exhaustion. But in vain did I look for lodging for the night: on the way I did not come across a single village. What was to be done?

I had to spend the night in an open field.

There is no bush or tree around. Only a small column stuck out from under the snow.

I somehow tied my frozen horse to this post, and I myself lay down right there in the snow and fell asleep.

I slept for a long time, and when I woke up, I saw that I was not lying in a field, but in a village, or rather, in a small town, houses surrounded me on all sides.

What's happened? Where am I? How could these houses grow here in one night?

And where did my horse go?

For a long time I did not understand what had happened. Suddenly I hear a familiar growl. This is my horse neighing.

But where is he?

The whining comes from somewhere above.

I raise my head - and what?

My horse is hanging on the roof of the bell tower! He is tied to the very cross!

In one minute, I realized what it was.

Last night, this whole town, with all the people and houses, was covered with deep snow, and only the top of the cross stuck out.

I did not know that it was a cross, it seemed to me that it was a small column, and I tied my tired horse to it! And at night, while I was sleeping, a strong thaw began, the snow melted, and I imperceptibly sank to the ground.

But my poor horse remained up there, on the roof. Tied to the cross of the bell tower, he could not descend to the ground.

What to do?

Without hesitation, I grab a pistol, aim accurately and hit right in the bridle, because I have always been an excellent shooter.

Bridle - in half.

The horse quickly comes down to me.

I jump on it and, like the wind, I jump forward.

Wolf harnessed to a sleigh

But in winter it is inconvenient to ride a horse - it is much better to travel in a sleigh. I bought myself a very good sleigh and quickly rushed through the soft snow.

By evening I entered the forest. I was already beginning to doze, when I suddenly heard the alarming neighing of a horse. I looked back and by the light of the moon I saw a terrible wolf, which, with its wide-toothed mouth, was running after my sleigh.

There was no hope for salvation.

I lay down on the bottom of the sleigh and closed my eyes in fear.

My horse ran like crazy. The clicking of wolf teeth was heard just above my ear.

But, fortunately, the wolf did not pay any attention to me.

He jumped over the sled - right over my head - and attacked my poor horse.

In one minute the hindquarters of my horse disappeared into his voracious mouth.

The front part of horror and pain continued to gallop forward.

The wolf was eating into my horse deeper and deeper.

When I came to my senses, I grabbed the whip and, without losing a moment, began to whip the insatiable beast.

He howled and lunged forward.

The front part of the horse, not yet eaten by the wolf, fell out of the harness into the snow, and the wolf was in its place - in shafts and in a horse harness!

He could not escape from this harness: he was harnessed like a horse.

I kept hitting him with all my might.

He raced on and on, dragging my sleigh behind him.

We rushed so fast that in two or three hours we entered Petersburg at a gallop.

The astonished residents of St. Petersburg ran out in droves to look at the hero, who, instead of a horse, harnessed a ferocious wolf to his sleigh. I had a good life in St. Petersburg.

sparks from the eyes

I often went hunting and now I recall with pleasure that merry time when so many wonderful stories happened to me almost every day.

One story was very funny.

The fact is that from the window of my bedroom I could see a vast pond, where there was a lot of all kinds of game.

One morning, going to the window, I noticed wild ducks on the pond.

In a moment I grabbed a gun and ran headlong out of the house.

But in a hurry, running down the stairs, I hit my head on the door, so hard that sparks fell from my eyes.

It didn't stop me.

Run home for flint?

But ducks can fly away.

I lowered my gun sadly, cursing my fate, and suddenly a brilliant thought occurred to me.

With all my might, I punched myself in the right eye. Of course, sparks fell from the eye, and the gunpowder flared up at the same moment.

Yes! The gunpowder flared up, the gun fired, and I killed ten excellent ducks with one shot.

I advise you, whenever you decide to kindle a fire, to get the same sparks from your right eye.

Amazing Hunt

However, with me there were also more amusing cases. One day I spent the whole day hunting, and towards evening I came across a vast lake in a dense forest, which was full of wild ducks. I have never seen so many ducks in my life!

Unfortunately, I didn't have a single bullet left. And just this evening I was expecting a large group of friends to my place, and I wanted to treat them to game. I am generally a hospitable and generous person. My lunches and dinners were famous throughout St. Petersburg. How will I get home without ducks?

- For a long time I stood in indecision and suddenly remembered that in my hunting bag there was a piece of lard.

Hooray! This fat will be an excellent bait. I take it out of the bag, quickly tie it to a long and thin string and throw it into the water.

Ducks, seeing the food, immediately swim up to the fat. One of them greedily swallows it.

But the fat is slippery and, quickly passing through the duck, jumps out behind her!

Thus, the duck is on my string.

Then a second duck swims up to the fat, and the same thing happens to it.

Duck after duck swallows the fat and slips on my twine like beads on a string. Not even ten minutes pass, as all the ducks are strung on it. You can imagine how much fun it was for me to look at such a rich booty! I had only to pull out the caught ducks and take them to my cook in the kitchen.

That will be a feast for my friends! But dragging this many ducks was not so easy.

I took a few steps and was terribly tired. Suddenly you can imagine my amazement! - the ducks flew into the air and lifted me to the clouds.

Another in my place would be confused, but I am a brave and resourceful person. I arranged a rudder out of my coat and, steering the ducks, quickly flew towards the house. But how do you get down?

Very simple! My resourcefulness helped me here too. I twisted the heads of several ducks and we began to slowly sink to the ground.

I hit the chimney of my own kitchen! If only you could see how amazed my cook was when I appeared before him in the hearth!

Luckily, the cook hadn't had time to start the fire yet.

Partridges on a ramrod

Oh, resourcefulness is a great thing! Once I happened to shoot seven partridges with one shot. After that, even my enemies could not but admit that I was the first shooter in the whole world, that such a shooter as Munchausen had never happened before!

Here is how it was. I came back from hunting with all my bullets gone. Suddenly, seven partridges fluttered out from under my feet. Of course, I could not allow such excellent game to escape me.

I loaded my gun - what do you think? - a ramrod! Yes, with the most ordinary ramrod, that is, with an iron round stick, which is used to clean a gun!

Then I ran up to the partridges, scared them off and fired. Partridges took off one after another, and my ramrod pierced seven at once.

I picked them up and was amazed to see that they were fried! Yes, they were fried! However, it could not be otherwise: after all, my ramrod was very hot from the shot and the partridges, hitting it, could not help but fry.

I sat down on the grass and immediately dined with great appetite.

Fox on a needle

Yes, resourcefulness is the most important thing in life, and there was no person in the world more resourceful than Baron Munchausen.

Once in a Russian dense forest I came across a silver fox.

The skin of this fox was so good that I felt sorry to spoil it with a bullet or shot.

Without a moment's delay, I took a bullet out of the gun barrel and, loading the gun with a long shoe needle, shot at this fox. As she stood under the tree, the needle firmly nailed her tail to the very trunk.

I slowly approached the fox and began to whip it with a whip.

She was so dazed from the pain that - would you believe it? - jumped out of her skin and ran away from me naked. And I got the whole skin, not spoiled by a bullet or shot.

blind pig

Yes, there have been a lot of amazing things that have happened to me!

Once I make my way through the thicket of a dense forest and see: a wild piglet is running, still quite small, and behind the piglet is a big pig.

I fired, but, alas, I missed. My bullet flew right between the piglet and the pig. The pig squealed and darted into the forest, but the pig remained in place as if rooted to the spot.

I was surprised: why is she not running away from me? But as I got closer, I realized what it was. The pig was blind and did not understand the road. She could walk through the forests only by holding on to the tail of her pig.

My bullet tore off that tail. The pig ran away, and the pig, left without him, did not know where to go. She stood helplessly, holding a piece of his tail in her teeth. Then a brilliant idea occurred to me. I grabbed this tail and led the pig to my kitchen. The poor blind woman dutifully followed me, thinking that she was still being led by a pig!

Yes, I must repeat once again that resourcefulness is a great thing!

How do I catch a boar

Another time I came across a wild boar in the forest. Dealing with it was much more difficult. I didn't even have a gun with me.

I started to run, but he rushed after me like a madman and would certainly have pierced me with his fangs if I had not hidden behind the first oak tree that came across.

A wild boar ran into an oak tree, and its fangs sank so deep into the trunk of the tree that it could not pull them out.

- Yeah, got it, my dear! I said, coming out from behind the oak. - Wait a minute! Now you won't leave me!

And, taking a stone, I began to drive sharp fangs even deeper into the tree so that the boar could not free himself, and then tied him up with a strong rope and, having put him on a cart, triumphantly took him home.

That's what surprised the other hunters! They could not even imagine that such a ferocious beast could be caught alive without spending a single charge.

Fancy deer

However, miracles and cleaner ones happened to me. I am walking through the woods and treat myself to sweet, juicy cherries, which I bought along the way.

And suddenly, right in front of me - a deer! Slender, beautiful, with huge branched horns! And, as luck would have it, I didn't have a single bullet!

The deer stands and calmly looks at me, as if he knows that my gun is not loaded. Fortunately, I had a few more cherries left, and I loaded the gun with a cherry stone instead of a bullet. Yes, yes, don't laugh, an ordinary cherry pit.

A shot rang out, but the deer only shook its head. The bone hit him in the forehead and did no harm. In an instant, he disappeared into the forest thicket.

In an instant, he disappeared into the forest thicket. I was very sorry that I missed such a beautiful beast.

A year later, I hunted again in the same forest. Of course, by that time I had completely forgotten about the story of the cherry pit.

Imagine my amazement when a magnificent deer jumped out of the thicket of the forest right at me, with a tall, spreading cherry tree growing between its horns! Oh, believe me, it was very beautiful: a slender deer and a slender tree on his head! I immediately guessed that this tree had grown from that small bone that had served as a bullet for me last year. This time I had no shortage of charges. I took aim, fired, and the deer fell dead to the ground. Thus, with one shot, I immediately got both roast and cherry compote, because the tree was covered with large, ripe cherries.

I must confess that I have never tasted more delicious cherries in my entire life.

wolf inside out

I don’t know why, but it often happened to me that I met the most ferocious and dangerous animals at a moment when I was unarmed and helpless.

Somehow I am walking through the forest, and a wolf is meeting me. He opened his mouth - and straight to me.

What to do? Run? But the wolf has already attacked me, knocked me over and will now cut my throat. Another in my place would be confused, but you know Baron Munchausen! I am determined, resourceful and brave. Not a minute immediately, I put my fist into the wolf's mouth and, so that he would not bite off my hand, stuck it deeper and deeper. The wolf glared at me. His eyes sparkled with rage. But I knew that if I pulled my hand out, he would tear me into small pieces, and therefore fearlessly stuck it further and further. And suddenly a magnificent thought occurred to me: I grabbed his insides, pulled hard and turned him inside out like a mitten!

Of course, after such an operation, he fell dead at my feet. I made an excellent warm jacket from his skin, and if you do not believe me, I will gladly show it to you.

fur coat

However, in my life there have been events more terrible than meeting with wolves.

Once a rabid dog chased me. I rushed from her with all legs. But I had a heavy fur coat on my shoulders, which prevented me from running.

I dropped it on the run, ran into the house and slammed the door behind me. The fur coat remained on the street.

The mad dog pounced on her and began to bite her with fury. My servant ran out of the house, picked up a fur coat and hung it in the closet where my clothes hung.

The next day, early in the morning, he runs into my bedroom and shouts in a frightened voice:

Get up! Get up! Your fur coat is furious!

I jump out of bed, open the wardrobe - and what do I see?! All my dresses are torn to shreds! The servant turned out to be right: my poor fur coat was furious, because yesterday it was bitten by a rabid dog.

The fur coat furiously attacked my new uniform, and only shreds flew from it. I grabbed the gun and fired.

The mad fur coat instantly calmed down. Then I ordered my men to tie it up and hang it in a separate closet. Since then, it has not bitten anyone, and I put it on without any fear.

Eight-legged hare

Yes, many wonderful stories happened to me in Russia.

Once I was chasing an extraordinary hare. The hare was remarkably fast. He jumps forward and forward - and at least sat down to rest. For two days I chased him without dismounting from the saddle, and could not overtake him.

My faithful dog Dianka did not lag behind him a single step, but I could not get close to him at a distance of a shot. On the third day, I still managed to shoot that damned hare.

As soon as he fell on the grass, I jumped off my horse and rushed to examine him. Imagine my surprise when I saw that this hare, in addition to his usual legs, also had spare ones. He had four legs on his stomach and four on his back!

Yes, he had excellent, strong legs on his back! When his lower legs got tired, he rolled over on his back, belly up, and continued to run on spare legs.

No wonder I chased him like a madman for three days!

Wonderful jacket

Unfortunately, while chasing the eight-legged hare, my faithful dog was so tired from the three-day chase that he fell to the ground and died an hour later.

Since then, I no longer need a gun or a dog. Whenever I'm in the woods, my jacket pulls me to where the wolf or the hare is hiding.

When I approach the game within shooting distance, a button comes off the jacket and, like a bullet, flies straight into the beast! The beast falls on the spot, killed by the amazing button. This jacket is still on me.

You don't seem to believe me, are you smiling? But look here and you will see that I am telling you the purest truth: can't you see with your own eyes that now there are only two buttons left on my jacket? When I go hunting again, I will sew at least three dozen on it.

Here other hunters will envy me!

Horse on the table

I don't think I've told you anything about my horses yet? In the meantime, many wonderful stories have happened to me and to them.

It was in Lithuania. I was visiting a friend who was passionately fond of horses. And so, when he showed the guests his best horse, which he was especially proud of, the horse broke off the bridle, knocked over four grooms and rushed around the yard like crazy.

Everyone fled in fear. Not a single daredevil was found who would dare to approach the enraged animal. Only I alone did not lose my head, because, having amazing courage, I have been able to curb the wildest horses since childhood.

With one jump, I jumped the horse onto the ridge and instantly tamed it. Immediately feeling my strong hand, he submitted to me like a small child. In triumph, I traveled all over the courtyard, and suddenly I wanted to show my art to the ladies who were sitting at the tea table.

How to do it? Very simple! I directed my horse to the window and, like a whirlwind, flew into the dining room.

The ladies were very scared at first. But I made the horse jump onto the tea table and galloped so skillfully among the glasses and cups that I did not break a single glass, not a single smallest saucer.

The ladies liked it very much; they began to laugh and clap their hands, and my friend, fascinated by my amazing dexterity, asked me to accept this magnificent horse as a gift.

I was very pleased with his gift, as I was going to war and had been looking for a horse for a long time. An hour later, I was already racing on a new horse in the direction of Turkey, where fierce battles were going on at that time.

half a horse

In battles, of course, I was distinguished by desperate courage and ran into the enemy ahead of everyone.

Once, after a heated battle with the Turks, we captured an enemy fortress. I was the first to burst into it and, having driven all the Turks out of the fortress, I galloped to the well - to water the overheated horse. The horse drank and could not quench his thirst. Several hours passed, and he still did not come off the well. What a miracle! I was amazed. But suddenly I heard a strange splash behind me.

I looked back and nearly fell off my saddle in surprise.

It turned out that the entire back of my horse was cut off cleanly and the water he drank poured freely behind him without lingering in his stomach! This created a vast lake behind me. I was stunned. What's the oddity?

But then one of my soldiers galloped up to me, and the riddle was instantly explained. When I was galloping after the enemies and broke into the gates of the enemy fortress, the Turks just at that moment slammed this gate and cut off the back half of my horse. It's like being cut in half! This rear half remained for some time near the gate, kicking and dispersing the Turks with hoof strikes, and then galloped off to a nearby meadow.

She is grazing there now! the soldier told me.

Grazing? Can not be!

See for yourself.

I rushed on the front half of the horse towards the meadow. There I actually found the rear half of the horse. She peacefully grazed on a green glade.

I immediately sent for a military doctor, and he, without thinking twice, sewed both halves of my horse together with thin laurel rods, since he did not have any thread at hand.

Both halves grew together perfectly, and the laurel branches took root in the body of my horse, and a month later a bower of laurel branches formed over my saddle. Sitting in this cozy gazebo, I accomplished many amazing feats.

Riding on the core

However, during the war I happened to ride not only on horses, but also on cannonballs.

It happened like this. We were besieging some Turkish city, and our commander needed to find out if there were many guns in that city.

But in our entire army there was not a brave man who would agree to sneak into the enemy camp unnoticed.

Of course, I was the bravest of all.

I stood next to a huge cannon that was firing at the Turkish city, and when a cannonball flew out of the cannon, I jumped on top of it and dashed forward. Everyone exclaimed with one voice:

Bravo, bravo, Baron Munchausen!

At first I flew with pleasure, but when the enemy city appeared in the distance, disturbing thoughts seized me.

“Hm! I said to myself. - To fly in, you, perhaps, will fly in, but will you be able to get out of there? Enemies will not stand on ceremony with you, they will seize you as a spy and hang you on the nearest gallows. No, dear Munchausen, you must return before it's too late!

At that moment, an oncoming cannonball, launched by the Turks into our camp, flew past me. Without thinking twice, I got on it and, as if nothing had happened, rushed back.

Of course, during the flight, I carefully counted all the Turkish guns and brought my commander the most accurate information about the enemy artillery.

By hair

In general, during this war I had many adventures.

Once, fleeing from the Turks, I tried to jump over the swamp on horseback. But the horse did not jump to the shore, and with a running start we plopped into the liquid mud. They flopped and began to sink. There was no salvation.

The swamp sucked us deeper and deeper with terrible speed. Now the whole body of my horse was hidden in the fetid mud, now, and my head began to sink into the swamp, and only the braid of my wig sticks out from there.

What was to be done? We would certainly have perished if not for the amazing strength of my hands. I am a terrible strong man. Grabbing myself by this pigtail, I pulled it up with all my might and without much difficulty pulled both myself and my horse out of the swamp, which I tightly squeezed with both legs, like tongs.

Yes, I have lifted both myself and my horse, and if you think it's easy, try it yourself.

Bee shepherd and bears

But neither strength nor courage saved me from terrible misfortune.

Once, during a battle, the Turks surrounded me, and although I fought like a tiger, I was nevertheless captured by them.

They tied me up and sold me into slavery. Dark days have begun for me. True, the work they gave me was not difficult, but rather boring and annoying: I was appointed a bee shepherd. Every morning I had to drive the sultan bees to the lawn, graze them all day, and drive them back to the hives in the evening.

At first everything went well, but then one day, counting my bees, I noticed that one was missing.

I went to look for her and soon saw that she was attacked by two huge bears, who obviously wanted to tear her in two and feast on her sweet honey.

I didn't have any weapons with me - only a small silver hatchet.

I swung and threw this hatchet at the greedy animals to frighten them and free the poor bee. The bears rushed to run, and the bee was saved. But, unfortunately, I did not calculate the scope of my mighty arm and threw the hatchet with such force that it flew to the moon. Yes, to the moon. You shake your head and laugh, and at that time I was not in the mood for laughter.

I thought. What should I do? Where to get such a long ladder to get to the moon itself?

First trip to the moon

Fortunately, I remembered that in Turkey there is such a garden vegetable that grows very quickly and sometimes grows to the very sky.

These are Turkish beans. Without a moment's hesitation, I planted one of these beans in the ground, and it immediately began to grow. He grew higher and higher and soon reached the moon!

Hooray! I exclaimed and climbed up the stem.

An hour later I was on the moon. It was not easy for me to find my silver hatchet on the moon. The moon is silver, and the silver hatchet is not visible on silver. But in the end, I still found my hatchet on a pile of rotten straw.

I gladly put it in my belt and wanted to go down to Earth. But no luck: the sun dried up my beanstalk, and it crumbled into small pieces! Seeing this, I almost cried from grief.

What to do? What to do? Am I never to return to Earth? Am I really going to stay all my life on this hateful moon? Oh no! Never! I ran up to the straw and began to twist a rope out of it. The rope came out not long, but what a disaster! I started walking down it. With one hand I glided along the rope, and with the other I held the hatchet.

But soon the rope ended, and I hung in the air, between heaven and earth. It was terrible, but I didn't lose my head. Without thinking twice, I grabbed an ax and, firmly grasping the lower end of the rope, cut off its upper end and tied it to the lower one. This gave me the opportunity to descend lower to the Earth.

But still, the Earth was far away. Many times I had to cut off the top half of the rope and tie it to the bottom. At last I descended so low that I could see the houses and palaces of the city. Earth was only three or four miles away.

And suddenly - oh horror! - the rope broke. I hit the ground with such force that I cut a hole at least half a mile deep.

When I came to my senses, I did not know for a long time how to get out of this deep hole. The whole day I did not eat, did not drink, but kept thinking and thinking. And finally he thought of it: he dug steps with his nails and climbed up this ladder to the surface of the earth. Oh, Munchausen will not disappear anywhere!

punished greed

The experience gained by such hard work makes a person smarter. After my trip to the moon, I figured out a more convenient way to rid my bees of bears.

In the evening I smeared the shafts of the carts with honey and hid nearby. As soon as it got dark, a huge bear crept up to the cart and began to greedily lick the honey that covered the shafts. The glutton was so carried away by this delicacy that he did not notice how the shaft entered his throat, and then into his stomach, and finally crawled out behind him. This is just what I was waiting for.

I ran up to the cart and drove a thick and long nail into the shaft behind the bear! The bear turned out to be wearing a shaft. Now he can't slip back and forth. In this position, I left him until the morning.

In the morning, the Turkish Sultan himself heard about this trick and came to look at the bear caught with the help of such an amazing trick. He looked at him for a long time and laughed until he dropped.

Horses under the arms, carriage on the shoulders

Soon the Turks released me and sent me back to Petersburg together with other prisoners.

But I decided to leave Russia, got into a carriage and drove home. The winter that year was very cold. Even the sun caught a cold, frostbitten his cheeks, and he got a runny nose. And when the sun has a cold, instead of heat comes cold. You can imagine how cold I was in my carriage! The road was narrow. There were fences on both sides.

I ordered my coachman to blow his horn so that the oncoming carriages would wait for our passage, because on such a narrow road we could not pass.

The coachman carried out my order. He took the horn and began to blow. He blew, blew, blew, but not a sound came out of the horn! In the meantime, a large carriage was coming towards us.

Nothing to do, I get out of the carriage and harness my horses. Then I put the carriage on my shoulders - and the carriage is heavily loaded! - and with one jump I transfer the carriage back to the road, but already behind the carriage.

It was not easy even for me, and you know what a strong man I am. After a little rest, I return to my horses, take them under my arms and carry them to the carriage with the same two jumps.

During these jumps, one of my horses began to kick frantically. It was not very convenient, but I put her hind legs in the pocket of my coat, and she had to calm down.

Then I harnessed the horses to the carriage and calmly drove to the nearest hotel. It was nice to warm up after such a severe frost and relax after such hard work!

Thawed out sounds

My coachman hung a horn not far from the stove, and he himself came up to me, and we began to talk peacefully.

And suddenly the horn played:

“Tru-tutu! Tra-tata! Ra-rara!

We were very surprised, but at that moment I understood why in the cold it was impossible to make a single sound from this horn, but in the warmth it began to play by itself.

In the cold, the sounds froze in the horn, and now, having warmed up by the stove, they thawed and began to fly out of the horn on their own. The coachman and I enjoyed this charming music throughout the evening.

Storm

But please don't think that I traveled only through forests and fields. No, I happened to swim across the seas and oceans more than once, and there were adventures with me that did not happen to anyone.

We went once in India on a big ship. The weather was great. But when we were anchoring off some island, a hurricane came up. The storm hit with such force that it tore out several thousand (yes, several thousand!) Trees on the island and carried them straight to the clouds.

Huge trees, weighing hundreds of pounds, flew so high above the ground that from below they looked like some kind of feathers.

And as soon as the storm was over, every tree fell to its former place and immediately took root, so that no trace of the hurricane remained on the island. Amazing trees, right?

However, one tree never returned to its place. The fact is that when it took off into the air, on its branches there was one poor peasant with his wife. Why did they climb up there? Very simple: to pick cucumbers, because in that area cucumbers grow on trees.

The inhabitants of the island love cucumbers more than anything in the world and eat nothing else. This is their only food. The poor peasants, caught up in the storm, involuntarily had to make an air journey under the clouds.

When the storm subsided, the tree began to sink to the ground. The peasant and the peasant woman were, as if on purpose, very fat, they tilted him with their weight, and the tree fell not where it had grown before, but to the side, moreover, it flew into the local king and, fortunately, crushed him like a bug.

Fortunately? - you ask. Why, fortunately?

Because this king was cruel and brutally tortured all the inhabitants of the island. The inhabitants were very glad that their tormentor had died, and offered the crown to me:

Please, good Munchausen, be our king. Do us a favor, reign over us. You are so wise and brave.

But I flatly refused, because I do not like cucumbers.

Between a crocodile and a lion

When the storm was over, we weighed anchor, and two weeks later arrived safely in Ceylon. The eldest son of the Ceylon governor offered me to go hunting with him.

I agreed with great pleasure. We went to the nearest forest. The heat was terrible, and I must confess that, out of habit, I got tired very soon.

And the governor's son, a strong young man, felt great in this heat. He has lived in Ceylon since childhood. The Ceylon sun was nothing to him, and he walked briskly on the hot sands.

I lagged behind him and soon got lost in the thicket of an unfamiliar forest. I go and hear a rustle. I look around: in front of me is a huge lion, which has opened its mouth and wants to tear me to pieces. What to do here? My gun was loaded with small shot, which will not kill even a partridge. I fired, but the shot only irritated the ferocious beast, and it attacked me with redoubled fury.

Terrified, I rushed to run, knowing that it was in vain, that the monster would overtake me with one jump and tear me to pieces. But where am I running? In front of me, a huge crocodile opened its mouth, ready to swallow me at that very moment. What to do? What to do? Behind - a lion, in front - a crocodile, on the left - a lake, on the right - a swamp teeming with poisonous snakes.

In mortal fear, I fell on the grass and, closing my eyes, prepared for inevitable death. And suddenly something seemed to roll over my head and crash. I half opened my eyes and saw an amazing sight that gave me great joy: it turns out that a lion, having rushed at me at the moment when I fell to the ground, flew over me and landed right into the mouth of a crocodile!

The head of one monster was in the throat of another, and both strained with all their strength to free themselves from each other. I jumped up, pulled out a hunting knife and cut off the head of a lion with one blow.

A lifeless body fell at my feet. Then, wasting no time, I grabbed my gun and with the rifle butt began to drive the head of the lion even deeper into the mouth of the crocodile, so that he finally suffocated. The returned son of the governor congratulated me on my victory over the two forest giants.

Encounter with a whale

You can understand that after that I did not like Ceylon very much. I boarded a warship and went to America, where there are neither crocodiles nor lions.

We sailed for ten days without incident, but suddenly, not far from America, a disaster happened to us: we ran into an underwater rock. The blow was so strong that the sailor sitting on the mast was thrown into the sea for three miles.

Fortunately, falling into the water, he managed to grab the beak of a red heron flying past, and the heron helped him to hold out on the surface of the sea until we picked him up.

We hit the rock so unexpectedly that I could not stand on my feet: I was thrown up and hit my head on the ceiling of my cabin. From this my head fell into my stomach, and only over the course of several months did I manage to gradually pull it out by the hair.

The rock we hit was not a rock at all. It was a whale of colossal proportions, which was dozing peacefully on the water.

Having run into him, we woke him up, and he became so angry that he grabbed our ship by the anchor with his teeth and dragged us around the ocean all day, from morning to night. Fortunately, in the end, the anchor chain broke, and we freed ourselves from the whale.

On the way back from America, we met this whale again. He was dead and lying on the water, occupying half a mile with his carcass. There was nothing to think about to drag this hulk onto the ship. Therefore, we cut off only the head from the whale. And what was our joy when, dragging it onto the deck, we found in the monster's mouth our anchor and forty meters of the ship's chain, which all fit in one hole in its rotten tooth!

But our joy did not last long. We found that our ship has a large hole. The water rushed into the hold. The ship began to sink.

Everyone was confused, screamed, cried, but I quickly figured out what to do. Without even taking off my pants, I sat right in the hole and plugged it with my butt.

The flow has stopped. The ship was saved.

In the stomach of a fish

A week later we arrived in Italy. It was a sunny, clear day, and I went to the Mediterranean coast to swim. The water was warm. I am an excellent swimmer and swam far from the shore.

Suddenly I see - a huge fish with a wide open mouth is swimming right at me! What was to be done? It is impossible to escape from her, and therefore I huddled into a ball and rushed into her gaping mouth in order to quickly slip past sharp teeth and immediately find myself in the stomach.

Not everyone would come up with such a witty cunning, but I am generally a witty person and, as you know, very resourceful. The fish's stomach was dark, but warm and cozy.

I began to walk in this darkness, to walk back and forth, and soon noticed that the fish did not like it very much. Then I began deliberately stomping my feet, jumping and dancing like crazy in order to torture her well.

The fish screamed in pain and stuck its huge snout out of the water. Soon she was spotted from an Italian ship passing by.

This is what I wanted! The sailors killed her with a harpoon, and then dragged her onto their deck and began to consult on how best to cut the unusual fish.

I sat inside and, to be honest, I was trembling with fear: I was afraid that these people would not cut me up along with the fish. How terrible it would be!

But, fortunately, their axes did not hit me. As soon as the first light flashed, I began to shout in a loud voice in the purest Italian (oh, I know Italian perfectly!), That I am glad to see these good people who freed me from my stuffy dungeon.

My wonderful servants

The ship that saved me was heading for the capital of Turkey. The Italians, among whom I now found myself, immediately saw that I was a wonderful person, and offered me to stay on the ship with them. I agreed, and a week later we landed on the Turkish coast.

The Turkish Sultan, having learned about my arrival, of course, invited me to dine. He met me on the threshold of his palace and said:

I am happy, my dear Munchausen, that I can welcome you to my ancient capital. I hope you are in good health? I know all your great deeds, and I would like to entrust you with one difficult task that no one can handle except you, because you are the most intelligent and resourceful person on earth. Could you go to Egypt immediately?

With joy! I replied. - I love traveling so much that I'm ready even now to the ends of the world!

The Sultan was very pleased with my answer, and he entrusted me with an assignment that must remain a secret for all eternity, and therefore I cannot tell you what it consisted of. Yes, yes, the Sultan entrusted me with a great secret, because he knew that I was the most reliable person in the whole world. I bowed and immediately set off.

As soon as I drove away from the Turkish capital, I came across a small man running with unusual speed. A heavy weight was tied to each of his legs, and yet he flew like an arrow.

Where are you going? I asked him. - And why did you tie these weights to your legs? After all, they prevent you from running!

Three minutes ago I was in Vienna, - the little man answered as he ran, - and now I am going to Constantinople to look for some work for myself. I hung the weights at my feet so as not to run too fast, because I have nowhere to hurry.

I really liked this amazing runner, and I took him to my service. He willingly followed me. The next day, by the road itself, we noticed a man who was lying face down with his ear to the ground.

What are you doing here? I asked him.

Listen to the grass growing in the field! he replied.

And do you hear?

I hear great! For me, this is a real trifle!

In that case, come to my service, my dear. Your sensitive ears can be useful to me on the road.

Listen, I turned to him. Who are you shooting at? No animal or bird is seen anywhere.

A sparrow was sitting on the roof of a belfry in Berlin, and I hit him right in the eye.

You know how much I love hunting. I hugged the marksman and invited him to my service. He gladly followed me. Having traveled through many countries and cities, we approached a vast forest. We look at the road there is a man of enormous growth and holds a rope in his hands, which he threw in a loop around the entire forest.

What are you carrying? I asked him.

Yes, I needed to chop wood, but I left the ax at home, ”he answered. - I want to contrive to do without an axe.

He pulled the rope, and huge oaks, like thin blades of grass, flew into the air and fell to the ground. Of course, I did not spare the money and immediately invited this strong man to my service.

When we arrived in Egypt, such a terrible storm arose that all our carriages and horses rushed head over heels along the road.

In the distance we saw seven windmills, the wings of which were spinning like crazy. And on a hillock lay a man and pinched his left nostril with his finger. Seeing us, he greeted me courteously, and the storm stopped in an instant.

What are you doing here? I asked.

I turn my master's mills, he replied. - And so that they do not break, I do not blow too hard: only from one nostril. “This person will come in handy for me,” I thought, and offered him to go with me.

Chinese wine

In Egypt, I soon completed all the instructions of the Sultan. My resourcefulness helped me here too. A week later, I, along with my extraordinary servants, returned to the capital of Turkey. The Sultan was glad of my return and praised me very much for my successful actions in Egypt.

You are smarter than all my ministers, dear Munchausen! he said, shaking my hand firmly. - Come to me for lunch today!

The dinner was very tasty - but alas! - There was no wine on the table, because the Turks are forbidden by law to drink wine. I was very upset, and the Sultan, in order to console me, took me to his office after dinner, opened a secret closet and took out a bottle.

You have never tasted such excellent wine in your whole life, my dear Munchausen! he said, pouring me a full glass.

The wine was really good. But after the very first sip, I declared that in China, the Chinese Bogdykhan Fu Chang has even purer wine than this.

My dear Munchausen! exclaimed the Sultan. - I used to believe your every word, because you are the most truthful person on earth, but I swear that now you are telling a lie: there is no better wine than this!

And I'll prove it to you!

Munchausen, you are talking nonsense!

No, I am telling the absolute truth and I undertake exactly in an hour to deliver you from the Bogdykhan cellar a bottle of such wine, in comparison with which your wine is miserable sourness.

Munchausen, you are forgetting! I have always considered you one of the most truthful people on earth, and now I see that you are an unscrupulous liar.

If so, I demand that you ascertain immediately whether I am telling the truth!

I agree! - answered the Sultan. - If by four o'clock you do not deliver me a bottle of the best wine in the world from China, I will have your head cut off.

Fine! I exclaimed. - I agree to your terms. But if by four o'clock this wine is on your table, you will give me as much gold from your pantry as one person can carry at a time.

The Sultan agreed. I wrote a letter to the Chinese Bogdykhan and asked him to give me a bottle of the same wine that he treated me to three years ago.

“If you refuse my request,” I wrote, “your friend Munchausen will die at the hands of the executioner.”

By the time I finished writing, it was already five past three. I called my runner and sent him to the Chinese capital. He untied the weights hanging from his legs, took the letter, and in an instant disappeared from sight.

I returned to the Sultan's office. In anticipation of the runner, we drained the bottle we started to the bottom. It struck a quarter past three, then half past three, then three quarter past three, and my runner didn't show up. I felt somehow uneasy, especially when I noticed that the Sultan was holding a bell in his hands to ring and call the executioner.

Let me go out into the garden for some fresh air! I said to the Sultan.

You are welcome! replied the Sultan with the most gracious smile. But, going out into the garden, I saw that some people were following me on my heels, not retreating a single step from me.

They were the Sultan's executioners, ready to pounce on me at any moment and cut off my poor head. In desperation, I glanced at my watch. Five minutes to four! Do I only have five minutes left to live! Oh, it's too terrible! I called my servant, the one who heard the grass growing in the field, and asked him if he heard the tramp of the feet of my runner. He put his ear to the ground and informed me, to my great sorrow, that the idler was fast asleep!

Asleep?!

Yes, I fell asleep. I can hear him snoring far, far away.

My legs buckled in fear. Another minute - and I will die an inglorious death. I called another servant, the same one who was aiming at the sparrow, and he immediately climbed the highest tower and, rising on tiptoe, began to peer into the distance.

Well, do you see the villain? I asked, breathless with rage.

See see! He is lounging on a lawn under an oak tree near Beijing and snoring. And next to him is a bottle ... But wait, I'll wake you up!

He fired at the top of the oak tree under which the walker was sleeping. Acorns, leaves and branches fell on the sleeping man and woke him up. The speed walker jumped up, rubbed his eyes and rushed to run like a madman. It was only half a minute before four o'clock when he flew into the palace with a bottle of Chinese wine.

You can imagine how great was my joy! After tasting the wine, the Sultan was delighted and exclaimed:

Dear Munchausen! Let me hide this bottle away from you. I want to drink it alone. I had no idea that such a sweet and delicious wine existed in the world.

He locked the bottle in the cupboard and put the keys to the cupboard in his pocket and ordered the treasurer to be called immediately.

I allow my friend Munchausen to take from my pantries as much gold as one person can carry at a time, ”said the Sultan.

The treasurer bowed low to the Sultan and led me into the dungeons of the palace, filled to the brim with treasures.

I called my strongman. He shouldered all the gold that was in the sultan's pantries, and we ran to the sea. There I hired a huge ship and loaded it to the top with gold. Raising the sails, we hurried out to the open sea, until the Sultan came to his senses and took his treasures from me.

Chase

But something happened that I was so afraid of. As soon as we left the shore, the treasurer ran to his master and told him that I had completely robbed his pantries. The Sultan became furious and sent his entire navy after me.

Seeing a lot of warships, I must admit, I was seriously scared.

“Well, Munchausen,” I said to myself, “your last hour has come. Now you won't be saved. All your cunning won't help you."

I felt that my head, which had just been fixed on my shoulders, was again, as it were, separated from the body. Suddenly, my servant approached me, the one with powerful nostrils.

Don't be afraid, they won't catch up with us! - he said with a laugh, ran aft and, directing one nostril against the Turkish fleet, and the other against our sails, raised such a terrible wind that the entire Turkish fleet flew back from us back to the harbor in one minute.

And our ship, driven by my mighty servant, quickly rushed forward and reached Italy in a day.

Accurate shot

In Italy, I made a fortune as a rich man, but a calm, peaceful life was not for me. I longed for new adventures and exploits.

Therefore, I was very happy when I heard that a new war had broken out not far from Italy, the British were fighting the Spaniards. Without a moment's hesitation, I jumped on my horse and rushed to the battlefield. The Spaniards then besieged the English fortress of Gibraltar, I immediately made my way to the besieged.

The general who commanded the fortress was a good friend of mine. He received me with open arms and began to show me the fortifications he had erected, because he knew that I could give him practical and useful advice.

Standing on the wall of Gibraltar, I saw through a telescope that the Spaniards were pointing the muzzle of their cannon exactly at the place where we both stood.

Without a moment's hesitation, I ordered that a huge cannon be placed on this very spot.

What for? the general asked.

You will see! I replied.

As soon as the cannon was rolled up to me, I directed its muzzle directly into the muzzle of the enemy cannon, and when the Spanish gunner brought a fuse to his cannon, I loudly commanded:

Both guns fired at the same moment.

What I expected happened: at the point I had planned, two cannonballs - ours and the enemy's - collided with a terrifying force, and the enemy's cannonball flew back.

Imagine: it flew back to the Spaniards. It tore off the head of a Spanish gunner and sixteen Spanish soldiers. It knocked down the masts of three ships that were in the Spanish harbor, and rushed straight to Africa.

After flying another two hundred and fourteen miles, it fell on the roof of a squalid peasant shack, where some old woman lived. The old woman lay on her back and slept, and her mouth was open. The core made a hole in the roof, hit the sleeping woman right in the mouth, knocked out her last teeth and got stuck in her throat - neither here nor there!

Her husband ran into the shack, a hot and resourceful man. He put his hand down her throat and tried to pull out the core, but it did not budge.

Then he brought a good pinch of snuff to her nose; she sneezed, so good that the ball flew out of the window into the street! That's how much trouble the Spaniards caused their own core, which I sent back to them. Our core also did not give them pleasure: it hit their warship and let it sink, and there were two hundred Spanish sailors on the ship!

So the British won this war mainly due to my resourcefulness.

Thank you, dear Munchausen, my friend the general said to me, shaking my hands tightly. If it wasn't for you, we would be lost. We owe our brilliant victory only to you.

Rubbish, rubbish! - I said. - I am always ready to serve my friends.

In gratitude for my service, the English general wanted to promote me to colonel, but, as a very modest person, I declined such a high honor.

One against a thousand

This is what I told the general:

I do not need any orders or ranks! I help you out of friendship, disinterestedly. Simply because I love the English very much.

Thank you, buddy Munchausen! - said the general, shaking my hands again. - Help us, please, and further.

With great pleasure, - I answered and patted the old man on the shoulder. “I am happy to serve the British people.

Soon I had an opportunity to help my English friends again. I disguised myself as a Spanish priest and, when night fell, I crept into the enemy camp.

The Spaniards slept soundly, and no one saw me. I quietly set to work: I went to where their terrible cannons stood, and quickly, quickly began to throw these cannons into the sea - one after another - away from the coast.

It turned out to be not very easy, because there were more than three hundred of all the guns. Having finished with the guns, I pulled out wooden wheelbarrows, droshkys, wagons, carts, which were in this camp, dumped them in one heap and set fire to.

They flared up like gunpowder. A terrible fire started.

The Spaniards woke up and began to run around the camp in desperation. They imagined with fright that seven or eight English regiments had been in their camp during the night.

They could not imagine that this defeat could be carried out by one person. The Spanish commander-in-chief started to run in horror and, without stopping, ran for two weeks until he reached Madrid.

All his army set off after him, not daring even to look back. Thus, thanks to my bravery, the English finally broke the enemy.

What would we do without Munchausen? they said, and, shaking hands with me, they called me the savior of the English army.

The English were so grateful to me for the assistance rendered that they invited me to visit London. I willingly settled in England, not foreseeing what adventures await me in this country.

Core Man

The adventures were terrible. That's what happened once.

Walking somehow around the outskirts of London, I was very tired, and I wanted to lie down to rest. It was a summer day, the sun burned mercilessly; I dreamed of a cool place somewhere under a spreading tree. But there was no tree nearby, and so, in search of coolness, I climbed into the mouth of an old cannon and immediately fell into a sound sleep.

And I must tell you that just on this day the British celebrated my victory over the Spanish army and, in joy, fired from all the cannons. A gunner approached the cannon in which I was sleeping and fired.

I flew out of the cannon like a good ball, and, having flown to the other side of the river, landed in the yard of some peasant. Luckily, soft hay was stacked in the yard. I stuck my head in it - in the very middle of a large haystack. It saved my life, but of course I lost consciousness. So, unconscious, I lay for three months.

In autumn hay rose in price, and the owner wanted to sell it. Workers surrounded my haystack and began to turn it with pitchforks. I woke up from their loud voices. Having somehow climbed to the top of the haystack, I rolled down and, falling right on the owner's head, inadvertently broke his neck, which caused him to die immediately.

However, no one really wept for him. He was a shameless miser and did not pay his workers money. In addition, he was a greedy merchant: he sold his hay only when it went up in price.

Among polar bears

My friends were happy that I was alive. In general, I had many friends, and they all dearly loved me. You can imagine how happy they were when they found out that I had not been killed. They thought I was dead for a long time.

The famous traveler Finne was especially happy, who at that time was about to make an expedition to the North Pole.

Dear Munchausen, I am delighted that I can hug you! Finne exclaimed as soon as I appeared on the threshold of his office. - You must immediately go with me as my closest friend! I know that without your wise advice, I will not be successful!

Of course, I immediately agreed, and a month later we were already not far from the pole. One day, standing on the deck, I noticed in the distance a high ice mountain on which two polar bears were floundering. I grabbed a gun and jumped from the ship directly onto the floating ice floe.

It was difficult for me to climb the ice cliffs and rocks smooth as a mirror, every minute sliding down and risking falling into a bottomless abyss, but, despite the obstacles, I reached the top of the mountain and came close to the bears.

And suddenly a misfortune happened to me: when I was about to shoot, I slipped on the ice and fell, and hit my head on the ice and at the same moment lost consciousness. When consciousness returned to me half an hour later, I almost cried out in horror: a huge polar bear crushed me under him and, opening his mouth, was preparing to dine with me.

My gun lay far away in the snow. However, the gun was useless here, since the bear with all its weight fell on my back and did not allow me to move.

With great difficulty, I pulled out my small penknife from my pocket and, without thinking twice, cut off the bear's three toes on its hind leg.

He roared in pain and for a moment released me from his terrible embrace. Taking advantage of this, I, with my usual courage, ran to the gun and fired at the fierce beast. The animal collapsed into the snow.

But my misadventures did not end there: the shot woke up several thousand bears who were sleeping on the ice not far from me. Just imagine: several thousand bears! They all headed straight for me. What should I do? Another minute - and I will be torn to pieces by ferocious predators.

And suddenly a brilliant thought struck me. I grabbed a knife, ran up to the dead bear, tore off its skin and put it on myself. Yes, I put on a bear skin! The bears surrounded me. I was sure that they would pull me out of the skin and tear me to shreds. But they sniffed at me and, mistaking me for a bear, peacefully moved away one by one.

Soon I learned to growl like a bear and suck my paw just like a bear. The animals treated me very trustingly, and I decided to take advantage of this.

One doctor told me that a wound inflicted on the back of the head causes instant death. I walked up to the nearest bear and plunged my knife right into the back of his head.

I had no doubt that if the beast survived, it would immediately tear me to pieces. Fortunately, my experience was successful. The bear fell dead, without even having time to scream.

Then I decided to deal with the rest of the bears in the same way. I did this without much difficulty. Although they saw how their comrades fell, but since they mistook me for a bear, they could not guess that I was killing them.

In one hour, I killed several thousand bears. Having accomplished this feat, I returned to the ship to my friend Phipps and told him everything. He provided me with a hundred of the heaviest sailors, and I led them to the ice floe. They skinned the dead bears and dragged the bear hams onto the ship.

There were so many hams that the ship could not move on. We had to return home, although we did not reach our destination. That's why Captain Phipps never discovered the North Pole. However, we did not regret it, because the bear meat that we brought turned out to be surprisingly tasty.

Second trip to the moon

On my return to England I made a promise to myself never to undertake any further travel, but within a week I had to set out again.

The fact is that one of my relatives, a middle-aged and rich man, for some reason drove it into his head that there was a country in the world in which giants live.

He asked me to find this country for him without fail, and as a reward he promised to leave me a large inheritance. I really wanted to see the giants!

I agreed, equipped the ship, and we set off for the Southern Ocean. Along the way, we did not meet anything surprising, except for a few flying women who fluttered through the air like moths. The weather was excellent.

But on the eighteenth day a terrible storm arose. The wind was so strong that it lifted our ship above the water and carried it like a feather through the air. Higher and higher and higher! For six weeks we hovered over the highest clouds. Finally we saw a round sparkling island.

It was, of course, the moon. We found a convenient harbor and went to the moonlit coast. Below, far, far away, we saw another planet - with cities, forests, mountains, seas and rivers. We guessed that this was the land we had abandoned.

On the moon, we were surrounded by some huge monsters, sitting astride three-headed eagles. These birds replace horses for the inhabitants of the Moon.

Just at that time, the Moon King was at war with the Sun Emperor. He immediately offered me to become the head of his army and lead it into battle, but I, of course, flatly refused.

Everything on the Moon is much larger than what we have on Earth. The flies there are the size of sheep, each apple is no smaller than a watermelon. Instead of weapons, the inhabitants of the moon use radishes. She replaces them with spears, and when there is no radish, they fight with pigeon eggs. Instead of shields, they use fly agaric mushrooms.

I saw there several inhabitants of one distant star. They came to the moon to trade. Their faces were dog-like, and their eyes were either at the tip of their nose or down below their nostrils. They had neither eyelids nor eyelashes, and when they went to bed they covered their eyes with their tongues.

Lunar inhabitants never have to waste time on food. They have a special door on the left side of the abdomen: they open it and put food there. Then they close the door until another dinner, which they have once a month. They dine only twelve times a year!

This is very convenient, but it is unlikely that earthly gluttons and gourmets would agree to dine so rarely.

Lunar inhabitants grow right on the trees. These trees are very beautiful, they have bright crimson branches. Huge nuts with unusually strong shells grow on the branches. When the nuts are ripe, they are carefully removed from the trees and stored in the cellar.

As soon as the king of the moon needs new people, he orders to throw these nuts into boiling water. An hour later, the nuts burst, and completely ready moon people jump out of them. These people don't have to study. They are born as adults right away and already know their craft. A chimney sweep jumps out of one nut, an organ grinder jumps out of another, an ice cream man comes out of a third, a soldier comes out of a fourth, a cook comes out of a fifth, and a tailor comes out of a sixth.

And everyone is immediately taken to their own work. The chimney sweep climbs onto the roof, the organ grinder starts to play, the ice cream man shouts, "Hot ice cream!" (because on the moon ice is hotter than fire), the cook runs to the kitchen, and the soldier shoots at the enemy.

Having grown old, the moon people do not die, but melt into the air, like smoke or steam. On each hand they have a single finger, but they work with it as deftly as we do with five.

They carry their head under their arms and, when they go on a journey, leave it at home so that it does not deteriorate on the road. They can confer with their head even when they are far away from it! It is very comfortable.

If the king wants to know what his people think of him, he stays at home and lies on the sofa, and his head quietly sneaks into other people's houses and eavesdrops on all conversations.

Grapes on the moon are no different from ours. For me there is no doubt that the hail that sometimes falls on the earth is this very lunar grape, plucked by a storm in the lunar fields.

If you want to try moon wine, collect some hailstones and let them melt thoroughly. The belly serves the lunar inhabitants instead of a suitcase. They can close and open it as they please, and put whatever they want in it. They have no stomach, no liver, no heart, so inside they are completely empty.

They can put their eyes in and out. Holding the eye, they see it as well as if it were in their head. If an eye gets damaged or lost, they go to the market and buy themselves a new one. Therefore, there are a lot of people on the Moon who trade with their eyes. There every now and then you read on the signs: “Eyes are sold cheaply. Large selection of orange, red, purple and blue.

Every year, the lunar inhabitants have a new fashion for eye color. In the year I was on the moon, green and yellow eyes were considered fashionable. But why are you laughing? Do you think that I am telling you lies? No, every word I say is the purest truth, and if you do not believe me, go to the moon yourself. There you will see that I do not invent anything and tell you only the truth.

cheese island

It's not my fault if strange things happen to me that have never happened to anyone else. This is because I love to travel and am always looking for adventure, and you sit at home and see nothing but the four walls of your room.

Once, for example, I went on a long voyage on a large Dutch ship. Suddenly, in the open ocean, a hurricane came upon us, which in an instant tore off all our sails and broke all the masts.

One mast fell on the compass and shattered it. Everyone knows how difficult it is to navigate a ship without a compass. We lost our way and didn't know where we were going.

For three months we were thrown along the waves of the ocean from side to side, and then we were carried away to no one knows where, and then one fine morning we noticed an unusual change in everything. The sea turned from green to white. The breeze carried a gentle, caressing scent. We were very happy and happy.

Soon we saw the pier, and an hour later we entered a spacious deep harbor. Instead of water, it had milk! We hastened to land on the shore and began to drink greedily from the milky sea.

There was a sailor between us who couldn't stand the smell of cheese. When he was shown cheese, he began to feel sick. And as soon as we landed on the shore, he became ill.

Get that cheese out from under my feet! he shouted. - I don't want to, I can't walk on cheese!

I bent down to the ground and understood everything. The island our ship landed on was made from excellent Dutch cheese! Yes, yes, don't laugh, I'm telling you the true truth: instead of clay, we had cheese under our feet.

Is it any wonder that the inhabitants of this island ate almost exclusively cheese! But this cheese did not become less, because during the night it grew exactly as much as was eaten during the day.

The whole island was covered with vineyards, but the grapes there are special: you squeeze it in your fist; instead of juice, milk flows from it. The inhabitants of the island are tall, handsome people. Each of them has three legs. Thanks to three legs, they can freely stay on the surface of the milky sea.

Bread here grows baked, right in its finished form, so that the inhabitants of this island do not have to sow or plow. I saw many trees hung with sweet honey gingerbread.

During our walks around the Cheese Island, we discovered seven rivers flowing with milk, and two rivers flowing with thick and tasty beer. I confess that I liked these beer rivers more than milk ones. In general, walking around the island, we saw many miracles.

We were particularly struck by the bird's nests. They were incredibly huge. One eagle's nest, for example, was taller than the tallest house. It was all woven from gigantic oak trunks. In it we found five hundred eggs, each the size of a good barrel.

We broke one egg, and a chick crawled out of it, twenty times the size of an adult eagle. The chick squeaked. An eagle flew to his aid. She grabbed our captain, lifted him up to the nearest cloud, and from there threw him into the sea.

Fortunately, he was an excellent swimmer and after a few hours he reached Cheese Island by swimming. In one forest I witnessed an execution.

The islanders hung three people upside down from a tree. The unfortunate moaned and wept. I asked why they were so severely punished. I was told that they were travelers who had just returned from a long journey and were lying shamelessly about their adventures.

I praised the islanders for such a wise punishment of deceivers, because I cannot stand any deceit and always tell only the pure truth.

However, you must have noticed yourself that in all my stories there is not a single word of lies. Lies are disgusting to me, and I am happy that all my relatives have always considered me the most truthful person on earth.

Returning to the ship, we immediately raised anchor and set sail from the wonderful island. All the trees that grew on the shore, as if by some sign, bowed twice to our waists and straightened up again as if nothing had happened.

Touched by their extraordinary courtesy, I took off my hat and sent them farewell greetings. Surprisingly polite trees, aren't they?

Ships swallowed by fish

We did not have a compass, and therefore we wandered for a long time in unfamiliar seas. Our ship was constantly surrounded by terrible sharks, whales and other sea monsters. At last we came upon a fish, which was so large that, standing near its head, we could not see its tail.

When the fish became thirsty, it opened its mouth, and the water flowed like a river into its throat, dragging our ship with it. You can imagine how anxious we felt! Even I, for what a brave man, was trembling with fear.

But in the stomach of the fish it turned out to be quiet, as in a harbor. The entire fish belly was stuffed with ships, long ago swallowed up by the greedy monster. Oh, if you only knew how dark it is! After all, we have not seen the sun, nor the stars, nor the moon.

The fish drank water twice a day, and whenever the water was poured into its throat, our ship was heaved up in high waves. The rest of the time, my stomach was dry.

After waiting for the water to subside, the captain and I got off the ship for a walk. Here we met sailors from all over the world: the Swedes, the British, the Portuguese ... There were ten thousand of them in the fish belly. Many of them have lived there for several years. I suggested that we get together and discuss a plan for liberation from this stuffy prison. I was elected chairman, but just as I opened the meeting, the damned fish began to drink again, and we all fled to our ships.

The next day we met again, and I made the following proposal: tie the two highest masts and, as soon as the fish opens its mouth, put them upright so that it cannot move its jaws. Then she will remain with her mouth open, and we will freely swim out.

My proposal was accepted unanimously. Two hundred of the heaviest sailors set two tall masts in the mouth of the monster, and it could not close its mouth.

The ships merrily sailed out of the belly into the open sea. It turned out that in the belly of this hulk there were seventy-five ships. Can you imagine how big the torso was! Of course, we left the masts in the open mouth of the fish so that it could not swallow anyone else.

Having been freed from captivity, we naturally wished to know where we were. It turned out to be in the Caspian Sea. This surprised us all very much, because the Caspian Sea is closed: it does not connect with any other seas.

But the three-legged scientist, whom I captured on Cheese Island, explained to me that the fish got into the Caspian Sea through some kind of underground channel.

We headed for the shore, and I hurried to land, declaring to my companions that I would never go anywhere again, that I had had enough of the troubles that I experienced during these years, and now I want to rest. My adventures tired me out, and I decided to live a quiet life.

Fight with a bear

But as soon as I got out of the boat, a huge bear attacked me. It was a monstrous beast of extraordinary size. He would have torn me to pieces in an instant, but I grabbed his front paws and squeezed them so hard that the bear roared in pain. I knew that if I let him go, he would immediately tear me to pieces, and so I held his paws for three days and three nights until he died of hunger.

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Usonsha the Bogatyr - Russian folk tale

The tale of Ivan Tsarevich and two brothers who went about the request of the tsar-father for living water and rejuvenating apples to the Usonshe-hero. ...

The hunting adventures of Baron Munchausen

“Gentlemen, friends, comrades: - so began
Baron Munchausen always tells his stories, rubbing his hands out of habit; then he took an old glass filled with his favorite drink - real, but not very old Rauenthal wine, looked thoughtfully at the greenish-yellow liquid, put the glass on the table with a sigh, examining everyone with a searching eye, and continued, smiling:

So, I have to talk about the past again! .. Yes, at that time I was still cheerful and young, courageous and full of ebullient strength!
Once I had a trip to Russia, and I left home in the middle of winter, because from everyone who has ever traveled in northern Germany, Poland, Livonia and Courland, I heard that the roads in these countries are very bad and relatively in tolerable condition are only in winter due to snow and frost.
I went out on horseback, because I find this mode of transportation the most convenient, if, of course, the horse and rider are good enough. In addition, traveling on horseback saves you from annoying collisions with German postmasters and from the risk of dealing with such a coachman who, eternally thirsty, strives to stop at every roadside tavern.
I was dressed very lightly, and the farther I moved to the northeast, the more the cold made itself felt.
Passing through Poland, on a road that ran through a deserted place, where cold winds roamed freely in the open, I met an unfortunate old man.
I felt sorry for the poor fellow to the depths of my soul, and although I myself was cold, I threw my travel cloak over him. After this meeting, I drove non-stop until night fell,
Before me stretched an endless snowy plain. There was a deep silence, and there was not the slightest sign of habitation anywhere. I didn't know where to go.
Terribly tired from the long ride, I decided to stop, dismounted from the horse and tied it to a pointed stake sticking out from under the snow. Just in case, I put the pistols next to me, lay down on the snow not far from the horse and immediately fell into a sound sleep. When I woke up, it was daytime. My horse was nowhere to be seen.
Suddenly, somewhere high in the air there was a neigh. I looked up: my horse, tied by the reins, hung on the top of the bell tower.
It immediately became clear to me what had happened: I stopped in a village completely covered with snow. A thaw suddenly came at night, and the snow melted. Imperceptibly during sleep, I sank lower and lower until I was on the ground. And what I took yesterday for a stake and to which I tied the horse was the steeple of the bell tower.
Without thinking twice, I fired the pistol. The bullet broke the belt, and after a minute the horse was standing next to me. I saddled her and rode on.
All went well until the Russian border. Unfortunately, in Russia it is not customary to ride a horse in winter. Never violating the customs of the country, I did not change my rule this time either. I bought a small sleigh, harnessed my horse and cheerfully and cheerfully set off for Petersburg.
I drove through a dense forest. I suddenly looked around and saw: a huge seasoned wolf was running after me: In a few jumps he caught up with me. I knew very well that I could not save myself from his sharp teeth, so I gave up my warriors and lay down in the sleigh.
The wolf jumped over me and attacked the horse.
Safely avoiding imminent death, I quietly raised my head and saw with horror that the hungry beast had swallowed the entire back of the animal. I hit him with all my might. The wolf rushed forward from fear and pain and found himself instead of a horse in its harness and shafts.

To the great surprise of those I met, the wolf raced me furiously and soon brought me safely to Petersburg.
I will not bore you with a description of the state structure, arts, sciences and all kinds of sights of the magnificent capital of the Russian Empire. I'd rather talk about horses, dogs, my best friends, foxes, wolves, bears and other animals that Russia is richer than any other country in the world. I would like to tell you more about Russian fun; about hunting and various exploits that adorn an honest nobleman more than the most fashionable and rich outfit and refined manners.
I did not immediately manage to enter the ranks of the Russian army. While waiting for the service, I had a lot of free time, which I spent, as befits; noble nobleman, cheerfully and carelessly. It cost a lot of money, but still I remember with pleasure this best time in my life.
The harsh climate and customs of the country gave rise to a great habit of wine in Russia. I have met quite a few people who have brought their art of drinking to virtuosity. But all in this respect were surpassed by one general with a gray beard and a copper-colored face, who dined with us very often. This brave man lost the upper part of his skull during the battle with the Turks and even at the table he always sat in a cap, for which he sincerely apologized to the guests. This venerable warrior drank several bottles of vodka and more than one bottle of rum every day at dinner. However, he was never seen drunk. This may seem implausible. I myself was perplexed for a long time and only accidentally realized what was the matter.
The general occasionally raised his cap to clear his head. At first I didn't pay attention to it. But then one day I noticed that along with the cap, a silver plate had also risen, which replaced the missing cranial bone for him. Wine vapors came out in a club into this hole. It was then that I understood everything and immediately told my friends about my discovery. We decided to check my observations.
I approached the general unnoticed with a smoking pipe in my hands. After waiting for the moment when the general raised his cap, I quickly brought a piece of paper to his head, which I lit from the pipe. And at the same moment everyone saw a wonderful phenomenon:
The general was good-natured at my prank, and subsequently allowed us to repeat these innocent experiments more than once.
I will not talk about other pranks with which we amused ourselves, but will go straight to the stories of my hunting adventures.

The fantastic tale The Adventures of Baron Munchausen with its humor, wit, irrepressible fiction attracts more than one generation of readers. Short fictional stories will appeal to middle school students. If parents are not yet familiar with the inventor and dreamer Munchausen, the stories will attract their attention. Be sure to read the story online and discuss it with your child.

Tale Adventures of Baron Munchausen read

The baron himself, the protagonist of all the stories, tells about his incredible adventures to the guests. He claims that his stories are true. About how the hero's horse ended up on the bell tower, about the wolf that ate the baron's horse, turned out to be harnessed to a sleigh and drove the baron around St. Petersburg. How half a horse grazed in the meadow, and the owner fought on the other half of it with the enemy. One of the stories about how a daredevil flew to a Turkish fortress on a cannonball to reconnoiter the situation there. Flying up to the fortress, Munchausen counted all the combat units of the enemy. Then he moved to the core, which flew in the opposite direction and safely returned to his camp. The next story is about the expedition to the North Pole and the hunt for polar bears. Having boldly dealt with one bear, the baron put on his skin. The bears recognized him as their comrade. So Munchausen killed more than a thousand bears. There was so much bear meat that the ship with it had to go back so that it would not be lost. Another true story about Munchausen's flight to the moon will be learned by surprised listeners from the most truthful person on earth. One of the Baron's maritime adventures is the landing on Cheese Island. Gingerbread trees, milk and beer rivers, as well as three-legged inhabitants of the island impressed travelers. The Baron liked most of all how liars were punished on Cheese Island. They were hung upside down from trees. Munchausen proudly told how he managed to free seventy-five ships from the belly of a huge fish. When Munchausen's ship was swallowed by a huge fish, more than seventy ships were already in its belly. Our hero came up with a way to free himself from captivity. Having connected several masts, the sailors raised them in the mouth of the fish. Having opened its mouth, the fish could no longer close it. The ships safely sailed out of it into the open sea. After all the adventures, the baron promised himself to live a quiet life. You can read the story online on our website.

Analysis of the fairy tale The Adventures of Baron Munchausen

The history of the creation of the collection about the tireless inventor is interesting. Near the German town of Bodenwerder lived the nobleman Munchausen, on whose behalf Erich Raspe told funny stories. When the collection gained popularity in Germany, the elderly baron had to hire security guards to get rid of the importunity of curious visitors who identified him with the legendary hero Erich Raspe. In the image of Munchausen, the author collected the positive and negative features of many of his acquaintances. He did not aim to stigmatize liars, but rather wanted to show the strength of the human spirit, courage, resourcefulness, seething energy, curiosity, and the ability to find non-standard solutions. These qualities draw the reader to Munchausen, "the most truthful man on earth." A bright literary character has become an example of perseverance, optimism and determination. The reader will not have to look for an answer to the question of what the tale of the Adventures of Baron Munchausen teaches, since it is obvious.