The hunting adventures of Baron Munchausen. Encyclopedia of fairy-tale characters: "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen" The main characters of the story of the adventures of Baron Munchausen

A little old man with a big nose sat by the fireplace and told about his adventures. They listened to him and laughed:

Hey Munchausen! That's it Baron!

But he didn’t even look at them and continued to calmly tell how he flew to the moon, how he lived among three-legged people, how he was swallowed by a huge fish.

When one of the visitors, having listened to the baron, said that these are all your thoughts, Munchausen replied:

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...

Here are the stories of “the most truthful man on earth.”

While in Russia in winter, the baron fell asleep right in an open field, tying his horse to a small post. Waking up, Munchausen saw that he was in the middle of the town, and the horse was tied to a cross on the bell tower - overnight the snow that had completely covered the city melted, and the small column turned out to be the snow-covered top of the bell tower. Having shot the bridle in half, the baron lowered his horse. Traveling no longer on horseback, but in a sleigh, the baron met a wolf. Out of fear, Munchausen fell to the bottom of the sleigh and closed his eyes. The wolf jumped over the passenger and devoured the horse's hindquarters. Under the blows of the whip, the beast rushed forward, squeezed out the front of the horse and harnessed itself into the harness. Within three hours, Munchausen rode into St. Petersburg on a sleigh harnessed to a ferocious wolf.

Seeing a flock of wild ducks on the pond near the house, the baron rushed out of the house with a gun. Munchausen hit his head on the door - sparks flew from his eyes. Having already taken aim at the duck, the baron realized that he had not taken the flint with him, but this did not stop him: he ignited the gunpowder with sparks from his own eye, hitting it with his fist. Munchausen was not at a loss during another hunt, when he came across a lake full of ducks, when he no longer had bullets: the baron strung the ducks on a string, luring the birds with a piece of slippery lard. The duck “beads” took off and carried the hunter all the way to the house; Having broken the necks of a couple of ducks, the baron descended unharmed into the chimney of his own kitchen. The lack of bullets did not spoil the next hunt: Munchausen loaded the gun with a ramrod and skewered 7 partridges with one shot, and the birds were immediately fried on a hot rod. In order not to spoil the skin of the magnificent fox, the baron shot at it with a long needle. Having pinned the animal to a tree, Munchausen began to whip her with a whip so hard that the fox jumped out of his fur coat and ran away naked.

And after shooting at a pig walking through the forest with his son, the baron shot off the pig’s tail. The blind pig could not go further, having lost her guide (she was holding on to the tail of the cub, who led her along the paths); Munchausen. He grabbed the tail and led the pig straight into his kitchen. Soon the boar also went there: after chasing Munchausen, the boar got its tusks stuck in a tree; the baron only had to tie him up and take him home. Another time, Munchausen loaded the gun with a cherry pit, not wanting to miss the handsome deer - however, the animal still ran away. A year later, our hunter met the same deer, between whose antlers there was a magnificent cherry tree. Having killed the deer, Munchausen received both roast and compote at once. When the wolf attacked him again, the baron thrust his fist deeper into the wolf's mouth and turned the predator inside out. The wolf fell dead; Its fur made an excellent jacket.

The mad dog bit the baron's fur coat; she also went crazy and tore all the clothes in the closet. Only after the shot did the fur coat allow itself to be tied up and hung in a separate closet.

Another wonderful animal was caught while hunting with a dog: Munchausen chased a hare for 3 days before he was able to shoot it. It turned out that the animal has 8 legs (4 on its stomach and 4 on its back). After this chase the dog died. Grieving, the baron ordered a jacket to be sewn from her skin. The new thing turned out to be difficult: it senses prey and pulls towards a wolf or a hare, which it strives to kill with shooting buttons.

While in Lithuania, the baron curbed the mad horse. Wanting to show off in front of the ladies, Munchausen flew into the dining room on it and carefully pranced on the table without breaking anything. For such grace, the baron received a horse as a gift. Perhaps on this very horse the baron burst into the Turkish fortress when the Turks were already closing the gates - and cut off the back half of Munchausen's horse. When the horse decided to drink water from the fountain, the liquid poured out of it. Having caught the back half in the meadow, the doctor sewed both parts together with laurel twigs, from which a gazebo soon grew. And in order to scout out the number of Turkish cannons, the baron jumped on a cannonball launched at their camp. The brave man returned to his friends on an oncoming cannonball. Having fallen into a swamp with his horse, Munchausen risked drowning, but he grabbed the braid of his wig tightly and pulled them both out.

When the baron was captured by the Turks, he was appointed bee shepherd. While fighting off a bee from two bears, Munchausen threw a silver hatchet at the robbers - so hard that he threw it onto the moon. The shepherd climbed to the moon along a long stalk of chickpeas grown right there and found his weapon on a pile of rotten straw. The sun dried out the peas, so they had to climb back down on a rope woven from rotten straw, periodically cutting it and tying it to its own end. But 3-4 miles before the Earth, the rope broke and Munchausen fell, breaking through a large hole, from which he climbed out using steps dug out with his fingernails. And the bears got what they deserved: the baron caught the clubfoot on a shaft greased with honey, into which he hammered a nail behind the impaled bear. The Sultan laughed until he dropped at this idea.

Having set off home from captivity, Munchausen was unable to miss the oncoming crew on the narrow path. I had to take the carriage on my shoulders, and the horses under my arms, and in two passes I had to carry my belongings through another carriage. The baron's coachman diligently blew his horn, but could not blow out a single sound. At the hotel, the horn thawed and thawed sounds poured out of it.

When the baron was sailing off the coast of India, a hurricane tore out several thousand trees on the island and carried them to the clouds. When the storm ended, the trees fell into place and took root - all except one, from which two peasants were collecting cucumbers (the only food of the natives). The fat peasants tilted the tree and it fell on the king, crushing him. The inhabitants of the island were extremely happy and offered the crown to Munchausen, but he refused because he did not like cucumbers. After the storm, the ship arrived in Ceylon. While hunting with the governor's son, the traveler got lost and came across a huge lion. The baron started to run, but a crocodile had already crept up behind him. Munchausen fell to the ground; The lion jumped on him and fell straight into the crocodile's mouth. The hunter cut off the lion's head and drove it so deep into the crocodile's mouth that he suffocated. The governor’s son could only congratulate his friend on his victory.

Munchausen then went to America. Along the way, the ship encountered an underwater rock. From a strong blow, one of the sailors flew into the sea, but grabbed the heron’s beak and stayed on the water until rescued, and the baron’s head fell into his own stomach (for several months he pulled it out of there by the hair). The rock turned out to be a whale that woke up and, in a fit of rage, dragged the ship by its anchor across the sea all day. On the way back, the crew found the corpse of a giant fish and cut off the head. In the hole of a rotten tooth, the sailors found their anchor along with the chain. Suddenly water rushed into the hole, but Munchausen plugged the hole with his own butt and saved everyone from death.

Swimming in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Italy, the baron was swallowed by a fish - or rather, he himself shrank into a ball and rushed straight into the open mouth so as not to be torn to pieces. Because of his stomping and fuss, the fish screamed and stuck its muzzle out of the water. The sailors killed her with a harpoon and cut her with an ax, freeing the prisoner, who greeted them with a kind bow.

The ship was sailing to Turkey. The Sultan invited Munchausen to dinner and assigned the matter to Egypt. On the way there, Munchausen met a small walker with weights on his legs, a man with sensitive hearing, an accurate hunter, a strong man and a hero who turned the blades of a mill with air from his nostrils. The baron took these guys as his servants. A week later the baron returned to Turkey. During lunch, the Sultan took out a bottle of good wine from a secret cabinet especially for his dear guest, but Munchausen declared that the Chinese Bogdykhan had better wine. To this the Sultan replied that if, as proof, the baron did not deliver a bottle of this very wine by 4 o’clock in the afternoon, the braggart’s head would be cut off. As a reward, Munchausen demanded as much gold as 1 person could carry at a time. With the help of new servants, the baron obtained wine, and the strong man carried out all the Sultan's gold. With all sails set, Munchausen hurried to go to sea.

The entire navy of the Sultan set off in pursuit. The servant with powerful nostrils sent the fleet back to the harbor, and drove his ship all the way to Italy. Munchausen lived a rich life, but a quiet life was not for him. The baron rushed to the war between the English and the Spaniards, and even made his way into the besieged English fortress of Gibraltar. On the advice of Munchausen, the British pointed the muzzle of their cannon directly towards the muzzle of the Spanish cannon, as a result of which the cannonballs collided and both flew towards the Spaniards, with the Spanish cannonball piercing the roof of one shack and getting stuck in the throat of an old woman. Her husband brought her a snuff of tobacco, she sneezed and the cannonball flew out. In gratitude for the practical advice, the general wanted to promote Munchausen to colonel, but he refused. Disguised as a Spanish priest, the baron sneaked into the enemy camp and threw dadelko cannons from the shore and burned wooden vehicles. The Spanish army fled in horror, deciding that a countless horde of Englishmen had visited them at night.

Having settled in London, Munchausen once fell asleep in the mouth of an old cannon, where he hid from the heat. But the gunner fired in honor of the victory over the Spaniards, and the baron hit his head in a haystack. For 3 months he stuck out of the haystack, losing consciousness. in the fall, when the workers were stirring up a haystack with pitchforks, Munchausen woke up, fell on the owner’s head and broke his neck, which everyone was happy about.

The famous traveler Finn invited the baron on an expedition to the North Pole, where Munchausen was attacked by a polar bear. The baron dodged and cut off 3 toes on the beast's hind leg, he released him and was shot. Several thousand bears surrounded the traveler, but he pulled on the skin of a dead bear and killed all the bears with a knife to the back of the head. The skins of the killed animals were torn off, and the carcasses were cut into hams.

In England, Munchausen had already given up traveling, but his rich relative wanted to see the giants. In search of the giants, the expedition sailed across the Southern Ocean, but a storm lifted the ship beyond the clouds, where, after a long “voyage,” the ship moored to the Moon. The travelers were surrounded by huge monsters on three-headed eagles (radish instead of weapons, fly agaric shields; the belly is like a suitcase, only 1 finger on the hand; the head can be removed, and the eyes can be removed and replaced; new residents grow on trees like nuts, and when they grow old, they melt into air).

And this voyage was not the last. On a half-wrecked Dutch ship, Munchausen sailed across the sea, which suddenly turned white - it was milk. The ship moored to an island made of excellent Dutch cheese, on which even grape juice was milk, and the rivers were not only dairy, but also beer. The locals were three-legged, and the birds built huge nests. Travelers here were severely punished for lying, with which Munchausen could not but agree, because he cannot stand lies. When his ship sailed, the trees bowed twice after him. Wandering the seas without a compass, sailors encountered various sea monsters. One fish, quenching its thirst, swallowed the ship. Her belly was literally full of ships; when the water subsided, Munchausen and the captain went for a walk and met many sailors from all over the world. At the baron's suggestion, the two tallest masts were placed upright in the fish's mouth, so the ships could float out - and found themselves in the Caspian Sea. Munchausen hurried ashore, declaring that he had had enough of adventures.

But as soon as Munchausen got out of the boat, a bear attacked him. The Baron squeezed his front paws so hard that he roared in pain. Munchausen kept the clubfoot for 3 days and 3 nights, until he died of hunger, since he could not suck his paw. Since then, not a single bear has dared to attack the resourceful baron.

A little old man with a big nose sits by the fireplace and talks about his incredible adventures, convincing his listeners that these stories are true.

While in Russia in winter, the baron fell asleep right in an open field, tying his horse to a small post. Waking up, M. saw that he was in the middle of the town, and the horse was tied to a cross on the bell tower - overnight the snow that had completely covered the city melted, and the small column turned out to be the snow-covered top of the bell tower. Having shot the bridle in half, the baron lowered his horse. Traveling no longer on horseback, but in a sleigh, the baron met a wolf. Out of fear, M. fell to the bottom of the sleigh and closed his eyes. The wolf jumped over the passenger and devoured the horse's hindquarters. Under the blows of the whip, the beast rushed forward, squeezed out the front of the horse and harnessed itself into the harness. Three hours later M. rode into St. Petersburg on a sleigh harnessed to a ferocious wolf.

Seeing a flock of wild ducks on the pond near the house, the baron rushed out of the house with a gun. M. hit his head on the door - sparks flew from his eyes. Having already taken aim at the duck, the baron realized that he had not taken the flint with him, but this did not stop him: he ignited the gunpowder with sparks from his own eye, hitting it with his fist. M. was not at a loss during another hunt, when he came across a lake full of ducks, when he no longer had bullets: the baron strung the ducks on a string, luring the birds with a piece of slippery lard. The duck “beads” took off and carried the hunter all the way to the house; Having broken the necks of a couple of ducks, the baron descended unharmed into the chimney of his own kitchen. The lack of bullets did not spoil the next hunt: M. loaded the gun with a ramrod and skewered 7 partridges on it with one shot, and the birds were immediately fried on a hot rod. In order not to spoil the skin of the magnificent fox, the baron shot at it with a long needle. Having pinned the animal to a tree, M. began to whip her with a whip so hard that the fox jumped out of his fur coat and ran away naked.

And after shooting at a pig walking through the forest with his son, the baron shot off the pig’s tail. The blind pig could not go further, having lost her guide (she was holding on to the tail of the cub, who led her along the paths); M. took hold of the tail and led the pig straight into his kitchen. Soon the boar also went there: after chasing M., the boar got its tusks stuck in a tree; the baron only had to tie him up and take him home. Another time, M. loaded the gun with a cherry pit, not wanting to miss the handsome deer - however, the animal still ran away. A year later, our hunter met the same deer, between whose antlers there was a magnificent cherry tree. Having killed the deer, M. received both the roast and the compote at once. When the wolf attacked him again, the baron thrust his fist deeper into the wolf's mouth and turned the predator inside out. The wolf fell dead; Its fur made an excellent jacket.

The mad dog bit the baron's fur coat; she also went crazy and tore all the clothes in the closet. Only after the shot did the fur coat allow itself to be tied up and hung in a separate closet.

Another wonderful animal was caught while hunting with a dog: M. chased the hare for 3 days before he was able to shoot it. It turned out that the animal has 8 legs (4 on its stomach and 4 on its back). After this chase the dog died. Grieving, the baron ordered a jacket to be sewn from her skin. The new thing turned out to be difficult: it senses prey and pulls towards a wolf or a hare, which it strives to kill with shooting buttons.

While in Lithuania, the baron curbed the mad horse. Wanting to show off in front of the ladies, M. flew into the dining room on it and carefully pranced on the table without breaking anything. For such grace, the baron received a horse as a gift. Perhaps, on this very horse, the baron burst into the Turkish fortress, when the Turks were already closing the gates - and cut off the back half of M’s horse. When the horse decided to drink water from the fountain, the liquid poured out of it. Having caught the back half in the meadow, the doctor sewed both parts together with laurel twigs, from which a gazebo soon grew. And in order to scout out the number of Turkish cannons, the baron jumped on a cannonball launched at their camp. The brave man returned to his friends on an oncoming cannonball. Having fallen into a swamp with his horse, M. risked drowning, but he grabbed the braid of his wig tighter and pulled them both out.

When the baron was captured by the Turks, he was appointed bee shepherd. While fighting off a bee from 2 bears, M. threw a silver hatchet at the robbers - so hard that he threw it onto the moon. The shepherd climbed to the moon along a long stalk of chickpeas grown right there and found his weapon on a pile of rotten straw. The sun dried out the peas, so they had to climb back down on a rope woven from rotten straw, periodically cutting it and tying it to its own end. But 3-4 miles before the Earth, the rope broke and M. fell, breaking through a large hole, from which he climbed out using steps dug out with his fingernails. And the bears got what they deserved: the baron caught the clubfoot on a shaft greased with honey, into which he hammered a nail behind the impaled bear. The Sultan laughed until he dropped at this idea.

Having set off home from captivity, M., on a narrow path, could not miss the oncoming crew. I had to take the carriage on my shoulders, and the horses under my arms, and in two passes I had to carry my belongings through another carriage. The baron's coachman diligently blew his horn, but could not blow out a single sound. At the hotel, the horn thawed and thawed sounds poured out of it.

When the baron was sailing off the coast of India, a hurricane tore out several thousand trees on the island and carried them to the clouds. When the storm ended, the trees fell into place and took root - all except one, from which two peasants were collecting cucumbers (the only food of the natives). The fat peasants tilted the tree and it fell on the king, crushing him. The inhabitants of the island were extremely happy and offered the crown to M., but he refused because he did not like cucumbers. After the storm, the ship arrived in Ceylon. While hunting with the governor's son, the traveler got lost and came across a huge lion. The baron started to run, but a crocodile had already crept up behind him. M. fell to the ground; The lion jumped on him and fell straight into the crocodile's mouth. The hunter cut off the lion's head and drove it so deep into the crocodile's mouth that he suffocated. The governor’s son could only congratulate his friend on his victory.

Then M. went to America. Along the way, the ship encountered an underwater rock. From a strong blow, one of the sailors flew into the sea, but grabbed the heron’s beak and stayed on the water until rescued, and the baron’s head fell into his own stomach (for several months he pulled it out of there by the hair). The rock turned out to be a whale that woke up and, in a fit of rage, dragged the ship by its anchor across the sea all day. On the way back, the crew found the corpse of a giant fish and cut off the head. In the hole of a rotten tooth, the sailors found their anchor along with the chain. Suddenly water rushed into the hole, but M. plugged the hole with his own butt and saved everyone from death.

Swimming in the Mediterranean Sea off the coast of Italy, the baron was swallowed by a fish - or rather, he himself shrank into a ball and rushed straight into the open mouth so as not to be torn to pieces. Because of his stomping and fuss, the fish screamed and stuck its muzzle out of the water. The sailors killed her with a harpoon and cut her with an ax, freeing the prisoner, who greeted them with a kind bow.

The ship was sailing to Turkey. The Sultan invited M. to dinner and entrusted him with business in Egypt. On the way there, M. met a small walker with weights on his legs, a man with sensitive hearing, an accurate hunter, a strong man and a hero, who turned the blades of a mill with air from his nostrils. The baron took these guys as his servants. A week later the baron returned to Turkey. During lunch, the Sultan, especially for his dear guest, took out a bottle of good wine from a secret cabinet, but M. declared that the Chinese Bogdykhan had better wine. To this the Sultan replied that if, as proof, the baron did not deliver a bottle of this very wine by 4 o’clock in the afternoon, the braggart’s head would be cut off. As a reward, M. demanded as much gold as 1 person could carry at a time. With the help of new servants, the baron obtained wine, and the strong man carried out all the Sultan's gold. With all sails set, M. hurried to go to sea.

The entire navy of the Sultan set off in pursuit. The servant with powerful nostrils sent the fleet back to the harbor, and drove his ship all the way to Italy. M. became a rich man, but a quiet life was not for him. The baron rushed to the war between the English and the Spaniards, and even made his way into the besieged English fortress of Gibraltar. On M.'s advice, the British pointed the muzzle of their cannon exactly towards the muzzle of the Spanish cannon, as a result of which the cannonballs collided and both flew towards the Spaniards, with the Spanish cannonball piercing the roof of one shack and getting stuck in the throat of an old woman. Her husband brought her a snuff of tobacco, she sneezed and the cannonball flew out. In gratitude for the practical advice, the general wanted to promote M. to colonel, but he refused. Disguised as a Spanish priest, the baron sneaked into the enemy camp and threw dadelko cannons from the shore and burned wooden vehicles. The Spanish army fled in horror, deciding that a countless horde of Englishmen had visited them at night.

Having settled in London, M. once fell asleep in the mouth of an old cannon, where he hid from the heat. But the gunner fired in honor of the victory over the Spaniards, and the baron hit his head in a haystack. For 3 months he stuck out of the haystack, losing consciousness. in the fall, when the workers were stirring up a haystack with a pitchfork, M. woke up, fell on the owner’s head and broke his neck, which everyone was happy about.

The famous traveler Finn invited the baron on an expedition to the North Pole, where M. was attacked by a polar bear. The baron dodged and cut off 3 toes on the beast's hind leg, he released him and was shot. Several thousand bears surrounded the traveler, but he pulled on the skin of a dead bear and killed all the bears with a knife to the back of the head. The skins of the killed animals were torn off, and the carcasses were cut into hams.

In England, M. had already given up traveling, but his rich relative wanted to see the giants. In search of the giants, the expedition sailed across the Southern Ocean, but a storm lifted the ship beyond the clouds, where, after a long “voyage,” the ship moored to the Moon. The travelers were surrounded by huge monsters on three-headed eagles (radish instead of weapons, fly agaric shields; the belly is like a suitcase, only 1 finger on the hand; the head can be removed, and the eyes can be removed and replaced; new residents grow on trees like nuts, and when they grow old, they melt into air).

And this voyage was not the last. On a half-broken Dutch ship, M. sailed on the sea, which suddenly turned white - it was milk. The ship moored to an island made of excellent Dutch cheese, on which even grape juice was milk, and the rivers were not only dairy, but also beer. The locals were three-legged, and the birds built huge nests. Travelers here were severely punished for lying, with which M. could not but agree, because he cannot stand lies. When his ship sailed, the trees bowed twice after him. Wandering the seas without a compass, sailors encountered various sea monsters. One fish, quenching its thirst, swallowed the ship. Her belly was literally full of ships; when the water subsided, M. and the captain went for a walk and met many sailors from all over the world. At the baron's suggestion, the two tallest masts were placed upright in the fish's mouth, so the ships could float out - and found themselves in the Caspian Sea. M. hurried ashore, declaring that he had had enough of adventures.

But as soon as M. got out of the boat, the bear attacked him. The Baron squeezed his front paws so hard that he roared in pain. M. held the clubfoot for 3 days and 3 nights, until he died of hunger, since he could not suck his paw. Since then, not a single bear has dared to attack the resourceful baron.

The fantastic “Adventures of Baron Munchausen” is based on the stories of Baron Munchausen, who actually lived in Germany in the 18th century. He was a military man, served for some time in Russia and fought with the Turks. Returning to his estate in Germany, Munchausen soon became known as a witty storyteller who dreamed up the most incredible adventures. In 1781, some of them were printed. In 1785, the German writer E. Raspe processed them and published them..

HORSE ON THE ROOF

I went to Russia on horseback. It was winter. It was snowing.
The horse got tired and began to stumble. I really wanted to sleep. I almost fell out of the saddle from fatigue. But I looked in vain for an overnight stay: I didn’t come across a single village on the way. What was to be done? We had to spend the night in an open field.

There are no bushes or trees around. Only a small column stuck out from under the snow.
I somehow tied my cold horse to this post, and I 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 lying not in a field, but in a village, or rather, in a small town, surrounded by houses on all sides.

What's happened? Where am I? How could these houses grow here overnight? And where did my horse go?
For a long time I did not understand what happened. Suddenly I hear a familiar neigh. This is my horse neighing. But where is he?
Neighing 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 cross itself!

In one minute I realized what was happening.
Last night this entire town, with all the people and houses, was covered in deep snow, and only the top of the cross stuck out.
I didn’t know that it was a cross, it seemed to me that it was a small post, and I tied my tired horse to it! And at night, while I was sleeping, a strong thaw began, the snow melted, and I sank to the ground unnoticed.
But my poor horse remained there, above, 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 the pistol, take aim and hit it right in the bridle, because I have always been an excellent shooter.

Bridle - in half.
The horse quickly descends towards me.

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

AMAZING HUNT

However, more amusing cases have happened to me. Once I spent the whole day hunting and in the evening I came across a vast lake in a deep forest, which was teeming with 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 join me, 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?

I stood indecisive for a long time and suddenly remembered that there was a piece of lard left in my hunting bag.
Hooray! This lard will be an excellent bait. I take it out of my bag, quickly tie it to a long and thin string and throw it into the water.
Ducks, seeing food, immediately swim to the lard. One of them greedily swallows it.

But lard is slippery and, quickly passing through the duck, pops out behind it!

Thus, the duck ends up on my string. Then the second duck swims up to the bacon, and the same thing happens to it.
Duck after duck swallows the lard and puts it on my string like beads on a string. Not even ten minutes pass before all the ducks are strung on it.
You can imagine how much fun it was for me to look at such rich booty! All I had to do was pull out the caught ducks and take them to my cook in the kitchen.
This 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.
Anyone else in my place would be at a loss, but I am a brave and resourceful person. I made a rudder out of my coat and, steering the ducks, quickly flew towards the house.

But how to 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 fell right into the chimney of my own kitchen! If you had only seen how amazed my cook was when I appeared before him on the fire!

Fortunately, the cook had not yet had time to light the fire.

BLIND PIG

Yes, many amazing things have happened to me!
One day I was making my way through the thicket of a dense forest and I saw: a wild pig, still very small, was running, and behind the pig was a large pig.

I shot, but, alas, I missed.
My bullet flew right between the pig and the pig.
The piglet squealed and ran into the forest, but the pig remained rooted to the spot.
I was surprised: why doesn’t she run away from me? But as I got closer, I realized what was going on. The pig was blind and did not understand the roads.

She could walk through the forests only holding the tail of her pig.
My bullet tore off this 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 took the pig to my kitchen. The poor blind woman obediently trudged after me, thinking that the pig was still leading her!

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

HOW I CAUGHT A BOAR

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

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

The boar ran into an oak tree, and its fangs sank so deeply into the tree trunk that he could not pull them out.
- Yeah, gotcha, darling! - I said, coming out from behind the oak tree. - 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 he tied him with a strong rope and, putting him on a cart, triumphantly took him to his home.

That’s why the other hunters were surprised! They could not even imagine that such a ferocious beast could be caught alive without expending a single charge.

EXTRAORDINARY DEER

However, even better miracles have happened to me. One day I was walking through the forest and treating myself to sweet, juicy cherries that I bought along the way. And suddenly there was a deer in front of me! Slender, beautiful, with huge branchy horns!

And, as luck would have it, I didn’t have a single bullet!
The deer stands and looks at me calmly, as if he knows that my gun is not loaded.
Luckily, I still had a few cherries left, so I loaded the gun with a cherry pit 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 on the forehead and did no harm. In an instant, he disappeared into the thicket of the forest.
I was very sorry that I missed such a beautiful animal.

A year later I was hunting in the same forest again. Of course, by that time I had completely forgotten about the cherry pit story.
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 antlers! Oh, believe me, it was very beautiful: a slender deer with a slender tree on its head!

I immediately guessed that this tree grew from that small bone that last year served as a bullet for me. This time I had no shortage of charges. I took aim, fired, and the deer fell to the ground dead.

Thus, with one shot I immediately got both the roast and the 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.

HORSE ON THE TABLE

I guess I haven’t told you anything about my horses yet?
Meanwhile, many wonderful stories happened to me and them.
It happened in Lithuania. I was visiting a friend who was passionate about horses.
And so, when he was showing the guests his best horse, of which he was especially proud, the horse broke free from the bridle, knocked over four grooms and rushed across the yard like crazy. Everyone ran away in fear.
There was not a single daredevil who would dare approach the enraged animal.
Only I was not at a loss, because, possessing amazing courage, since childhood I have been able to bridle the wildest horses.
With one leap I jumped onto the horse's ridge and instantly tamed him.

Immediately feeling my strong hand, he submitted to me like a small child. I rode around the entire yard in triumph, and suddenly I wanted to show my art to the ladies who were sitting at the tea table.
How to do this?
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 pranced so skillfully among the glasses and cups that I did not break a single glass or even the smallest saucer.
The ladies liked this 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 happy about his gift, since I was getting ready to go to war and had been looking for a horse for a long time.
An hour later I was already racing on a new horse towards Turkey, where fierce battles were going on at that time.

HALF HORSE

In battles, of course, I was distinguished by desperate courage and flew into the enemy ahead of everyone else.
Once, after a hot battle with the Turks, we captured an enemy fortress. I was the first to break into it and, having driven all the Turks out of the fortress, galloped to the well to water the hot horse.

The horse drank and could not quench his thirst. Several hours passed, and he still did not look away from the well. What a miracle! I was amazed. But suddenly a strange splashing sound was heard behind me.
I looked back and almost fell out of the saddle in surprise. It turned out that the entire back part of my horse was cut off completely and the water that he drank flowed freely behind him, without lingering in his stomach! This created a vast lake behind me. I was stunned. What kind of strangeness is this?

But then one of my soldiers galloped up to me, and the mystery was instantly explained.
When I galloped after the enemies and burst into the gates of the enemy fortress, the Turks just at that moment slammed the gates and cut off the back half of my horse. It's like they cut him in half! This hind half remained for some time near the gate, kicking and dispersing the Turks with blows of its hooves, and then galloped off into the neighboring meadow.
- She grazes there even now! - the soldier told me.
- Grazing? Can't be!
- See for yourself.
I rode on the front half of the horse towards the meadow. There I actually found the back half of the horse. She was grazing peacefully in a green clearing.

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

Both halves grew together perfectly, and the laurel branches took root in my horse’s body, and within a month I had a bower of laurel branches above my saddle.

Sitting in this cozy gazebo, I accomplished many amazing feats.

BETWEEN CROCODILE AND LION

When the storm ended, we raised anchor and two weeks later we safely arrived on the island of Ceylon.
The eldest son of the Ceylon governor invited me to go hunting with him.

I agreed with great pleasure. We went to the nearest forest. The heat was terrible, and I must admit that, out of habit, I was very soon tired.
And the governor’s son, a strong young man, felt great in this heat. He lived in Ceylon since childhood. The Ceylon sun was nothing to him, and he walked briskly along the hot sands.
I fell behind him and soon got lost in the thicket of an unfamiliar forest.

I'm walking and hear a rustling sound. 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 would not even kill a partridge. I fired, but the shot only irritated the ferocious beast, and he attacked me with redoubled fury.

In horror, I started to run, knowing that it was in vain, that the monster would overtake me in one leap and tear me to pieces. But where am I running? Ahead of me, a huge crocodile opened its mouth, ready to swallow me at that very moment.

What to do? What to do?
Behind is a lion, in front is a crocodile, to the left is a lake, to the right is a swamp infested 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 and crash over my head. I opened my eyes slightly and saw an amazing sight that brought me great joy: it turns out that the lion, rushing at me at the moment when I was falling to the ground, flew over me and fell straight into the mouth of the crocodile!
The head of one monster was in the throat of the other, 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 lion's head with one blow. A lifeless body fell at my feet.

Then, without wasting any time, I grabbed the gun and with the butt of the gun began to drive the lion’s head even deeper into the crocodile’s mouth, so that he eventually suffocated.

thin V. Bordzilovsky

The governor's son returned and congratulated me on my victory over two forest giants.

The book was written in 1786.
Retold for children by K. Chukovsky.
The text is based on the edition: E. Raspe. The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. - St. Petersburg: Comet, 1996.

Translation from German:

"Baron Munchhausen" by Rudolf Erich Raspe

The cover design uses an illustration 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”, artistic design, 2010

* * *

A 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 debates among specialists are still raging about whose role in the birth of “Baron Munchausen’s Tales of His Amazing Travels and Campaigns in Russia” is more important: the philologist and expert on antiquities Rudolf Erich Raspe (1737–1794) or Baron Hieronymus Karl Friedrich von Munchausen (1720–1797). One way or another, the book was a stunning 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 it’s not surprising - the bewitching skill with which these amazing and fantastic stories about travel and adventure, full of humor and lively details were written, and probably told among friends, could not leave readers indifferent.

Who are they, these two, who knew each other well, maintained friendly relations for many years, and then violently 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 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 the 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 with him, receiving the nickname Munchausen (literally “monastery”), which later became a surname, a new branch of the old family began, and from that time on the coat of arms of all Munchausens began to depict monk with staff and book. Among them were nobles and generals, ministers and even the founder of the famous University of Göttingen in Germany.

Hieronymus Karl Friedrich was born on the Bodenwerder estate near Hanover 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 son of the Duke, who became the groom of Princess Anna Leopoldovna, to whom the childless Empress Anna Ioannovna, who was ruling in Russia at that time, 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 that the Russian Empire was waging at that time with Turkey and Sweden. Of course, the young page accompanied him everywhere. Only in 1739 did the wedding of Duke Anton Ulrich take place with Anna Leopoldovna. Munchausen, freed from the duties of a page, entered the Brunswick Cuirassier Regiment with the rank of cornet and a year later became lieutenant and commander of the first elite company of cuirassiers.

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

In 1752, the baron, taking 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 possession of the Munchausen family. However, the vacation dragged on for several years, and Jerome Karl Friedrich submitted his resignation to the Military College and never returned to Russia.

From that time on, the baron led the peaceful life of a wealthy landowner - he met with neighboring landowners, hunted in the surrounding forests and fields, and occasionally visited the neighboring cities of Hanover and Gottingen. 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 to incredible stories about his adventures in Russia. This is how a contemporary described the evening in the “pavilion of lies”, which gathered many of the baron’s fans: “Usually he began to tell the story after dinner, lighting his huge meerschaum pipe with a short mouthpiece and placing a steaming glass of punch in front of him... The further he went, the more expressively he gesticulated, twisted his little smart wig on his head, his face became more and more animated and red, and he, usually a very truthful person, at these moments 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 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 a 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 caretaker of the antique and coin room. He devoted a lot of time to traveling through 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 one day he could not resist - he sold some of the coins from the Landgrave’s collection in order to improve his financial situation. The loss was discovered, the authorities issued an arrest warrant for the keeper, and guards came to his house. But then an almost incredible thing happened. The people who came to arrest Raspe were literally shocked by his gift as a storyteller 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 stories and masters of oral storytelling. Raspe moved to London, where he continued to be poor until he came up with a brilliant idea - to publish the stories told by his friend Munchausen in English. In the book, published without indicating 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 several of his own, borrowing plots from Greek, Roman and Eastern anecdotes and turning the book into a coherent work, united by the figure of the narrator.

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

The baron's patience ran out when Raspe's book appeared in Germany. The German translation gave his full name and details of his life, which infuriated Munchausen. At first, he decided to challenge Raspe to a duel, but since he was unattainable, he sued him for causing damage to the nobleman’s honor.

The court, however, rejected the baron's claim, since the book did not indicate the author's name. Meanwhile, Raspe’s creation gained such popularity in the German lands that onlookers began to flock to Bodenwerder to gawk at the “liar baron.” Munchausen had to set up a cordon of servants around the house to keep out curious burghers.

Thus, during his lifetime, without having done anything reprehensible in his lifetime, Baron Munchausen turned into a literary character that overshadowed 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 disgracing their name.

The real Jerome 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 was helping a weak old man change his shoes and discovered that Munchausen was missing two toes, the baron laughed heartily and made 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 money raised from the sale of books about Munchausen, the writer purchased a mine in Ireland, but before he could even begin to develop coal, he became infected with typhus, against which the medicine of that time was powerless.

Nowadays in Bodenwerder, a street, a restaurant, a hotel, a pharmacy and even a cinema bear the name of Munchausen. There is also a monument there - a fountain depicting the baron sitting on half a horse, greedily leaning towards 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 with continuations of the adventures of Munchausen and about himself have been published in different countries. 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, reasoning quite correctly that in winter in the north of Germany, Poland, Courland and Livonia, the roads, which, according to the testimony of all travelers, are even more deadly than the roads leading to the Temple of Virtue, should improve thanks to snow and frost - without any interference from those in power who are obliged to take care of the convenience of the population.

I went on horseback. This is the most practical way of communicating, of course, with excellent qualities of both the horse and the rider. Here, in any case, you won’t suddenly get involved in a duel with some scrupulous German postmaster, and the thirsty postman won’t arbitrarily take you to every tavern along the way. I dressed for the trip quite lightly, and the cold bothered me quite a bit as I moved to the northeast.

One can imagine how the unfortunate old man whom I accidentally came across in Poland felt in such cold and bad weather. He lay on the bare ground at the edge of the road, trembling, helpless, barely covering his nakedness with pathetic rags, unable to protect him from the piercing north-east wind.

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

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

Horseback riding tired me to the point of complete exhaustion. I had to get off the horse, which I tied to some kind of strong stake sticking out of a snowdrift.

Taking my pistols with me for safety, I lay down nearby in the snow and fell asleep so soundly that I opened my eyes only in broad daylight.

Imagine my surprise when I found myself in the churchyard! At first I decided that there was no trace of my horse. But then I heard a horse neighing somewhere above. I look up and see: my horse is hanging on a rein tied to the spire of the bell tower.

Then I realized what was going on. The village was completely covered with snow overnight, then the weather changed abruptly. During my sleep, I imperceptibly sank lower and lower as the snow melted, until I reached solid ground; and what I took in the darkness for a broken tree sticking out of a snowdrift turned out to be a bell tower spire with a weather vane, and my horse was tied to it.

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

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

My rule is to adapt to the customs of the country where fate takes me; so I took out a one-horse sleigh and, feeling cheerful, drove off to St. Petersburg.

* * *

I can’t remember where exactly one incident happened to me: in Estland or Ingria, I only know for sure that it happened in a dense forest. A terrible seasoned wolf chased me. Prompted by a severe winter hunger, it soon overtook me, and it seemed to me there was no longer any salvation. Mechanically, I threw myself face down into the sleigh, leaving the horse to save us both as it 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 rear part of the unfortunate animal, which continued to rush at full speed, beside itself with fear and pain.

Having safely avoided imminent 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 burrow deeper into the horse’s entrails, I hit the wolf with a whip. Out of fright, he rushed forward as fast as he could; then the corpse of the horse fell to the ground, and the wolf found himself in its skin and collar. I did not stop mercilessly whipping him, and thus both of us, healthy and unharmed, rushed like an arrow to St. Petersburg, completely against our mutual aspirations and to the considerable amazement of those we met.

* * *

I will not, dear sirs, bother you with empty chatter, describing the order in the luxurious Russian capital, the prosperity of sciences and arts in it and all its attractions, and even less would I like to introduce you to the intrigues and funny adventures in the select St. Petersburg society, where, between By the way, it is customary for the mistress of the house, when welcoming a guest, to certainly bring him a glass of vodka from her hands and loudly kiss him.

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

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

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

Our nights were spent playing games or carousing with the clink of full glasses.

The cold climate of Russia and the morals of the Russian nation contributed to the fact that here the bottle occupied a much more honorable position among social pleasures than the one it occupies in our sober Germany. It is no wonder that among the Russians I have met 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 the battle with the Turks, therefore, as soon as an unfamiliar face appeared in our company, 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 the 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 become intoxicated at all.

Do you think this goes beyond all imaginable boundaries?

I excuse you, gentlemen; I myself was lost 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 seemed to mechanically slightly lift his hat. I have often seen this gesture, without, however, attaching any significance to it. That the general's forehead felt hot was as natural as the fact that the old man was cooling his head.

Finally, I managed to notice that, along with his hat, he was lifting the silver plate attached to it, which replaced the top of his skull that had been torn off. At the same time, the wine vapors from the strong drinks he drank evaporated, rushing upward in a light cloud.

Thus the incomprehensible was explained.

I informed some of my bosom friends about this, offering to confirm my outlandish discovery that same evening with visual experience.

With a smoking pipe in my hand, I quietly crept up behind the old man, waited until he took off his hat, and then, using a piece of paper, I set fire to the rising wine fumes.

We were immediately presented with an unprecedented and beautiful sight. In an instant, the vapor above our hero’s head turned into a column of flame, and part of the vapor remaining above the old man’s hair instantly flared up and formed a blue halo-like glow around his head.

My experience, of course, could not go unnoticed 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 shine, we began vying with each other to offer the general a bet on a bottle of arrack, trying to deliberately lose to him and forcing him to drink the entire amount alone the wine he won.

Finally, the veteran’s halo grew to such proportions that its owner no longer had any room between mere mortals. One fine day he left our mortal world, probably in order to move to Valhalla and feast there among the heroes who had acquired immortality.

Adventure two

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

It would be superfluous to mention that most of all I loved to keep company with people who had a passion for the noble sport 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 located next door was covered with wild ducks.

Without wasting a moment, I grabbed the gun that was standing right there in the corner, and ran down the stairs so quickly that I cracked my face on the doorframe. Sparks flew from my eyes, but I couldn’t hesitate.

Having reached the pond within shooting distance, I was about to take aim, when suddenly, to my despair, I became convinced that a flint had bounced off my gun when it struck the door violently.

What could I do? There was no time to waste. Fortunately, I remembered what had just happened to my eyes. Quickly cocking the trigger, I took aim at the tempting game and punched my eye. From a strong blow, sparks flew out of it again, the gunpowder ignited, a shot rang out, and I laid down five pairs of ducks, four corydalis and two coots in place.

* * *

Presence of spirit is the main thing in bravery. Soldiers and sailors often owed their salvation to him, but it also helps out hunters quite often.

I remember how one day, wandering along the shore of the lake, I again saw about fifty wild ducks, which this time were scattered over such a vast area that it was impossible to expect to kill more than two or three with one shot. Unfortunately, there was only one charge left in my gun; Meanwhile, I had an irresistible desire to take home all the game that had flown to the lake, since I expected a rather large and pleasant company for dinner.

Suddenly a happy thought came to my mind. A piece of ham fat remained in my hunting bag - the remnant of provisions taken from home. I took a dog's bundle, stretched it out to make it as long as possible, and tied a piece of lard to the end.

Hiding in the coastal reeds, I threw my simple bait into the water and began to wait.

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

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

In just a few minutes, my bait traveled through the insides of all the ducks, and the string, fortunately, did not break and the birds (every one!) ended up strung on it like beads.

And now, having calmly pulled my simple gear with the caught game ashore, I wrapped myself all over it, after which I moved towards my house.

He walked and walked and got tired. The path was not short, and it was becoming beyond my strength to carry such a large amount of prey, and I already began to regret my gluttony. But then the burden that was weighing me down brought me enormous relief. All the ducks were still alive! Having recovered a little from fear and bewilderment, they suddenly flapped their wings and tried to soar into the sky.

Anyone else in my place would have been at a loss; I took advantage of this unexpected turn of events and, rising above the ground, began to act in the air space with the skirts of my camisole like an oar in order to direct the flight to my home. When we were already flying over it, in order to get down to the ground, in a hurry, I began to wring the necks of my ducks one by one. 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 thanks to the 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 straight onto the kitchen fire, which, fortunately for me, had not yet been lit.

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

* * *

I had a similar incident with a flock of partridges.

I went hunting to try out a new gun and had already shot through my entire stock of shot, when suddenly, no longer hoping, I saw a flock of partridges moving away. The desire to get several of them to my table that same evening suggested to me one wonderful remedy, which I advise you, gentlemen, to resort to in similar circumstances.

Noticing where the game landed, I quickly loaded the gun with a ramrod instead of lead, the end of which I hastily sharpened. After that, I went towards the partridges and shot at them the moment they fluttered up. Just a few steps away from me, 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 they say: “Trust in God, but don’t make a mistake yourself.” But the miracle has not yet been completed. Having picked up the pierced birds from the ground, I was just about to hide them in my hunting bag, when I suddenly noticed that they were already fried on the ramrod, which became red-hot when fired. The feathers fell off them, and the meat was so deliciously browned that all that remained was to put them on a dish and serve. At the same time, the game acquired a special piquant flavor that a sophisticated gourmet likes.

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

In an instant I pulled the bullet out of my gun, replaced it with a large carpenter's nail, fired and hit so accurately that I pinned the bushy tail of the beautiful animal to the tree trunk. After that, calmly approaching the fox, I took my hunting knife, cut the skin on its face crosswise and began to 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 was convinced of this soon after the incident described.

Once I saw a baby boar in the thicket of the forest, with its uterus running after it. Having fired at them, I unfortunately missed. I just look: what kind of miracle is this? After the shot, the cub runs away as fast as he can, but the queen stands rooted to the spot.

Coming closer, I took a closer look at her and became convinced that she had become blind from old age, which is why she was holding with her teeth the tail of the pig that served as her guide - in fulfillment of her filial duty. The pig was running after him when the bullet, which flew so successfully for them and so unsuccessfully for me - between the uterus and the calf, interrupted this living tether. The wounded guide pig, who had taken flight, stopped pulling the pig along with 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 scary wild pigs are, boars are much more ferocious and dangerous than them.

One day, unprepared for either attack or defense, I unexpectedly came across a seasoned boar in the forest. I barely managed to hide from him behind a mighty oak tree. Then the enraged animal, thinking to hit 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 won’t be able to escape.”

Grabbing a stone, I began to hammer the boar's tusks even deeper into the solid oak. No matter how much the beast strained in pain and rage, his desperate efforts led to nothing. And this adversary had to wait, willy-nilly, 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, dear sirs, have you heard about Saint Hubert - the brave patron of hunters and archers - and also about the noble deer that appeared to him in the forest with the holy cross between its horns?

Every year, in daring company, I diligently gave 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 in the past or whether they still exist today. But this is what happened to me one day.

When I shot all my rounds while hunting, suddenly a wonderful deer seemed to rise out of the ground in front of me. He stands and looks at me, so boldly, as if he knows that my cartridge belt and shotgun are completely empty.

I felt unbearable: I loaded the gun with gunpowder alone, 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. I fired this load at the deer and hit him right on the top of his head between the antlers.

For one moment he was stunned - he staggered, fell, but jumped up and - God bless his legs.

A year or two later I was hunting in the same forest; suddenly - what would you think? - out of nowhere a stately deer, and between its antlers a wonderful cherry tree, over ten feet tall. I immediately remembered my long-ago adventure, and since from that day I considered this animal my property, I killed it with a well-aimed shot.

Thus, in addition to the roast, it turned out to be a wonderful dessert, because the tree was completely strewn with ruddy cherries, the tastiest of which I had never tasted before.

Yes, my sirs, who knows, perhaps some ardent Reverend Nimrod - the abbot of a monastery or a bishop, a passionate lover of hunting - in the same manner he decorated the deer of Saint Hubert with a cross between the antlers! After all, ecclesiastical persons from time immemorial were famous for the art of decorating other people’s foreheads, and even now they zealously maintain this fame. But a good hunter in a hot moment does not take anything apart and stops at nothing so as not to lose the tasty prey from his hands. I judge by myself, because I myself have been subjected to temptations of this kind more than once. And what kind of troubles I got into is so incomprehensible!

For example, how would you like this incident?

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

In vain I searched my pockets with my nimble fingers in the hope of finding the remains of gunpowder and lead. I came across only two gun flints, which hunters usually take in reserve. Grabbing one of these flints, I threw it with all my might into the gaping 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 to the left in a circle, standing on all fours with its back to me, which I used to stick a second flint into it from the other end. Launched no less deftly, the pebble not only hit its intended target, but in the bear’s spacious belly it also hit the first one as hard as it could. There was a deafening crash, fire flashed, and the beast was instantly torn apart.

They say that a skillful argument a posteriore, presented by the way, and in addition colliding well with an argument a priori, completely demolished, 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 again or face a bear again, not having other means of defense in reserve.

A little old man sitting by the fireplace, telling stories, absurd and incredibly interesting, very funny and “true”... It seems that a little time will pass, and the reader himself will decide that it is possible to pull himself out of the swamp, grabbing his hair, turning the wolf inside out , discover half of the horse, which drinks tons of water and cannot quench its thirst.

Familiar stories, isn't it? Everyone has heard about Baron Munchausen. Even people who are not very good with fine literature, thanks to cinema, will be able to immediately list a couple of fantastic stories about it. Another question: “Who wrote the fairy tale “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen”?” Alas, the name of Rudolf Raspe is not known to everyone. And is he the original creator of the character? Literary scholars still find the strength to argue on this topic. However, first things first.

Who wrote the book "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen"?

The year of birth of the future writer is 1736. His father was an official and part-time miner, as well as an avid lover of minerals. This explained why Raspe spent his early years near the mines. He soon received his basic education, which he continued at the University of Göttingen. At first he was occupied by law, and then natural sciences captured him. Thus, nothing indicated his future hobby - philology, and did not foretell that he would be the one who wrote "The Adventures of Baron Munchausen."

Later years

Upon returning to his hometown, he chooses to become a clerk, and then works as a secretary in a library. Raspe made his debut as a publisher in 1764, offering the world the works of Leibniz, which, by the way, were dedicated to the future prototype of the Adventures. Around the same time, he wrote the novel “Hermyn and Gunilda”, became a professor and received the position of caretaker of an antique cabinet. Travels around Westphalia in search of ancient manuscripts, and then rare things for a collection (alas, not his own). The latter was entrusted to Raspa taking into account his solid authority and experience. And, as it turned out, in vain! The one who wrote “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen” was not a very wealthy man, even poor, which forced him to commit a crime and sell off part of the collection. However, Raspa managed to escape punishment, but it is difficult to say how this happened. They say that those who came to arrest the man listened and, fascinated by his gift as a storyteller, allowed him to escape. This is not surprising, because they encountered Raspe himself - the one who wrote “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen”! How could it be otherwise?

The appearance of a fairy tale

The stories and twists and turns associated with the publication of this fairy tale actually turn out to be no less interesting than the adventures of its main character. In 1781, in the “Guide for Merry People” the first stories with a cheerful and all-powerful old man are found. It was unknown who wrote The Adventures of Baron Munchausen. The author considered it necessary to remain in the shadows. It was these stories that Raspe took as the basis for his own work, which was united by the figure of the narrator and had integrity and completeness (unlike the previous version). Fairy tales were written in English, and the situations in which the main character acted had a purely English flavor and were associated with the sea. The book itself was conceived as a kind of edification directed against lies.

Then the fairy tale was translated into German (this was done by the poet Gottfried Burger), adding and changing the previous text. Moreover, the edits were so significant that in serious academic publications the list of those who wrote “The Adventures of Baron Munchausen” includes two names - Raspe and Burger.

Prototype

The resilient baron had a real-life prototype. His name, like the literary character, was Munchausen. By the way, the problem of this transmission remains unresolved. introduced the variant “Munhausen” into use, but in modern publications the letter “g” was added to the hero’s surname.

The real baron, already at an advanced age, loved to talk about his hunting adventures in Russia. Listeners recalled that at such moments the narrator’s face became animated, he himself began to gesticulate, after which incredible stories could be heard from this truthful person. They began to gain popularity and even went into print. Of course, the necessary degree of anonymity was observed, but people who knew the baron closely understood who the prototype of these sweet stories was.

Last years and death

In 1794, the writer tried to start a mine in Ireland, but death prevented these plans from coming true. Raspe's significance for the further development of literature is great. In addition to inventing the character, who had already become a classic, almost anew (taking into account all the details of the creation of the fairy tale, which were mentioned above), Raspe drew the attention of his contemporaries to ancient German poetry. He was also one of the first to feel that the Songs of Ossian were a fake, although he did not deny their cultural significance.