Exile alarm bell. Uglich bell exiled to Siberia - archangel blog

The city of Uglich in the southwest of the Yaroslavl region stands on the steep bank of the Volga. Here the river makes a sharp turn and creates an acute angle, hence the name of the city. Uglich is one of the most ancient cities in Russia. It was founded in 937. In the 14th century. A wooden Kremlin was built here. It was a border fortified city of the Moscow principality. The tragic story of the death of the heir to the Russian throne, Tsarevich Dmitry, the youngest son of Ivan the Terrible, is connected with Uglich.

On May 15, 1591, the alarm bell of Uglich rang alarmingly. People came running from all sides, thinking there was a fire. But, having learned about the death of the eight-year-old prince, the city residents brutally dealt with the killers. Boris Godunov ordered to punish all participants in this lynching, even the bell that announced the death of the prince. According to the custom of that time, convicts were branded. They removed the bell, cut off his ear, on which he hung, and his tongue, and publicly punished him in the square with twelve lashes. Then they were sent into exile along with the Uglich people. For a whole year, under the escort of guards, the convicts pulled the alarm bell to the Siberian city of Tobolsk.

In 1677, during a severe Tobolsk fire, the coal bell melted. A few years later, in memory of the exiled bell, a new one, similar to the previous one, was cast in Tobolsk.

Over time, the murder of the prince became a proven fact and the people of Uglich petitioned the emperor to return the undeservedly punished bell to the city. But only at the end of the 19th century. its copy was returned to Uglich. Now the bell hangs in the historical museum of the Uglish Kremlin. The entire territory of the Kremlin is a unique architectural monument. The wooden walls have not survived, but the stone buildings are striking in their antiquity. The chambers of the appanage princes were built of red brick in the 15th century. This is where little Tsarevich Dmitry lived. A church was built at the site of his death, which still stands today.

In the main temple of Uglich, the Transfiguration Cathedral, there is a wooden carved iconostasis with icons from the 15-16th centuries. The city has preserved 3 ancient active monasteries, numerous churches, and 11 museums have been opened. The entire city is a monument to the history and culture of Russia, one of the most colorful old Russian cities of the Golden Ring.

Everyone who comes to the ancient Russian city of Uglich will definitely be shown the “exile” bell as a special attraction. This is the same bell that on May 15, 1591, at an hour after lunch, the cathedral watchman Maxim Kuznetsov and the priest Fedot, having seen the murder of the noble Tsarevich Dimitri, “began to ring loudly and unusually and call the people to the city, and then The bitterly unhappy voice of many citizens came together, and they confiscated Borisov’s murderers and stoned them to death.”

N.M. Karamzin in his “History of the Russian State,” referring to Siberian chronicles, also tells the story of the bell of the Cathedral Church of the Savior in Uglich. The death of Tsarevich Dimitri caused spontaneous unrest in Uglich, accompanied by lynching of the alleged murderers.

“A minute later, the whole city presented the spectacle of an inexplicable rebellion. The sexton of the Cathedral Church of the Savior sounded the alarm, and all the streets were filled with alarmed, amazed people. They ran to the sound of the bell, looked at the smoke and flames, thinking that the palace was burning, and saw the prince dead on the ground. Nearby His mother and nurse were lying unconscious, but the names of the villains had already been pronounced by them.” Godunov’s subsequent punitive action was brutal: two hundred people were executed, thousands were deported to Siberia. The bell also shared the fate of the exiles. “For denunciation” he was flogged with twelve blows of the whip and, with his tongue torn out, he was sent to Siberia, to the city of Tobolsk. Moreover, there is evidence that the exiled Uglich residents dragged the bell on themselves into exile for almost a year. N.M. Karamzin writes about it this way: “In Tobolsk, between the bells of the Church of the Most Gracious Savior, they show the alarm Uglitsky, whose sound informed the local citizens about the murder of the prince, and who, along with them, was exiled by Godunov to Siberia, if you believe the legend.”

The continuation of the story of the exiled bell deserves to be told. In 1677, during a big fire in Tobolsk, this bell melted. In the 18th century, a new bell was cast, equal in weight, but slightly different from the previous one, although it was considered “Uglich”.

Residents of Uglich, in turn, did not forget about the bell. In 1849, 40 people from Uglich submitted a request to the Minister of Internal Affairs for permission to return this bell from Tobolsk to them. After many months of bureaucratic correspondence, a refusal was received. But in 1882, new bell seekers went to Tobolsk. And they discovered that the exiled Uglich bell was still there. The following inscription is carved on it: “This bell, which sounded the alarm during the murder of the blessed Tsarevich Dimitri, was sent in 1593 from the city of Uglich to Siberia, into exile, to the city of Tobolsk, to the Church of the All-Merciful Savior, which is at Torg, and then to The alarm sounded in the Sofia bell tower."

In the end, the residents of Uglich were able to achieve their goal - the bell was returned from exile to their homeland. This happened at the very end of the 19th century.

From book:
Dobrynin V. Exile bell // Bell ringing. When will you bring the good news to Rus'? / Ed. and comp. IN AND. Ten. M., 1999. pp. 75-79.

compiler of the material - Yulia Moskvicheva

Tobolsk The city where the alarm bell from Uglich was sent. May 3rd, 2017

I recently had the opportunity to visit Siberia, or, to be more precise, in the city Tobolsk- the northernmost city of the Tyumen region. I wouldn't be surprised if someone got into the google maps to find this place on the map. And someone remembered a photograph of the Tobolsk Kremlin taken by Dmitry Medvedev, which was later sold at auction for 51 million rubles!

Tobolsk begins differently for everyone, for me it began at the Tyumen airport, where a driver was waiting for me, and two Kazakh actors with pockets full of “Chuya steppe” marijuana. In such wonderful company I had to travel 250 miles to Tobolsk. The actors after the “steppe” were not verbose, although they were invigorated for a while, and the driver was talkative. However, he answered all my questions regarding Tobolsk like a student on an exam. As a result, of the attractions, the driver recommended to me only the Kremlin and the cemetery where the wives of the Decembrists and the Mendeleev family were buried.

> A fragment of the Tobolsk Kremlin, and wooden scenery for the filming of the film "Tobol"<

Getting out of the car with a small amount of knowledge about interesting places in Tobolsk, the next morning I went to explore the city according to the old scheme - wherever my eyes look. And taking into account the fact that they settled me opposite the Tobolsk Kremlin, it is not difficult to guess where my acquaintance with the city began.

So, Tobolsk is a city founded in 1587 as a center for the development of Siberia, now a small town with a population of just under 100,000 people. 10,000 of whom, according to local taxi drivers, are Chinese and Turks who work at petrochemical plants near the city.

Local men do not like visitors, citing the fact that they take away their jobs, and spread the infection by intercourse with women of Tobolsk. The second half of the population of Tobolsk, on the contrary, claims that visitors work more responsibly than Russian men. They say that our man goes on a drinking binge after his first salary and doesn’t want to strain himself at work...

Like many Russian cities, Tobolsk is very contrasting. Everyone will find beautiful architectural elements on the city streets, and complete destruction with mattresses on the lawns.

Conventionally, Tobolsk is divided into three parts. Upper town- everything around the Kremlin. It is located on the top of a hill, at a 90-meter elevation.

Lower city, aka "podgora". In my opinion, the most interesting part of Tobolsk (not counting the Kremlin). Why is it under the mountain, I think it’s clear - under the mountain.

And of course the sleeping areas. Everything here is sad and hopeless. Monotonous block high-rises, scribbled fences, large shopping centers. If Tobolsk had not become the birthplace of Mendeleev, the house in the photo below would have been just another gray spot on the map of the city.

The Upper Town and Red Square of the Tobolsk Kremlin are the “cover of the city.” No wires at lampposts, good asphalt, and all the benefits of tourist infrastructure.

The pearl of Siberia is the Tobolsk Kremlin. And the golden domes of the St. Sophia Cathedral, which is the oldest cathedral in Siberia (founded at the beginning of the 17th century). And taking into account the fact that the city is surrounded by taiga and swamps, one can imagine how strange the white stone buildings looked in these places centuries ago.

Next to the Kremlin stands a water tower built in 1902.

Opposite the Kremlin is a former men's religious school. Later vocational school. Now, judging by the dome, it is again the building of the Russian Orthodox Church.

One of the central streets of the city. On the left is a hotel, on the right is a hotel, and as the locals say, the rooms are almost always filled with tourists. Often overseas.

Art Museum. Opened in 1887 to celebrate the 300th anniversary of the city.

Kremlin observation deck. The fortress walls and towers are a remake. Due to the close proximity to the cliff, most of the authentic Kremlin buildings were destroyed by landslides.

View from the observation deck of the lower city. Surrounded by residential areas stands the Siberian Baroque Church of Zechariah and Elizabeth (1758-1776). Buildings in need of restoration are covered with banners, which gives them a decorative look.

Another element of the architectural ensemble of the Kremlin is the Renterea or Swedish Chamber (a building with a gray roof). It is called the Swedish Chamber thanks to the captured Swedish soldiers and officers who participated in its construction. The “foundation” of the latter is a viaduct-type bridge to which the Pryamskoy import leads - an ascent to the Kremlin territory from the foothills, which stretches up the mountain along the bottom of the ravine.

Ground floor of Renterea.

The upper part of the Direct import. Once upon a time, merchants walked through this import into the Kremlin territory, dragging carts of goods behind them.

The height of the walls reaches almost 10 meters. The place is very atmospheric and quiet.

The lower part of the entrance ends with a newly built staircase that leads to the lower city.

Streets of Podgora.

Auto parts store for UAZ and GAZ.

Siberian Baroque.

To preserve the authentic appearance of Podgora, they try to build new buildings in this part of the city in the appropriate style. All houses are no higher than three floors.

Ice crossing over the Irtysh, and three lanes - a left lane, a right lane, and a dedicated lane for freight transport.

In this case, the truck lane is blocked by a gazelle that got stuck in the April ice.

The house in which the royal family spent their last years.

House of creativity.

Monument of wooden architecture.

Church And the only road leading to the upper city.

It is impossible not to mention that the famous “Siberian exile” began with Tobolsk. And the first exile to Tobolsk was the Uglich bell, which raised the people to revolt after the mysterious death of Tsarevich Dmitry, the youngest son of Ivan the Terrible and the only legal heir of Tsar Fyodor Ioannovich.

In Uglich, on May 15, 1591, at 12 noon on Saturday, the watchman of the Spassky Cathedral Maxim Kuznetsov and the widowed priest Fedot, nicknamed Cucumber, by order of Queen Maria Nagoya, sounded the alarm on the occasion of the death of Tsarevich Dmitry. The ringing brought the townspeople to the cathedral square, unrest and lynching began against those suspected of killing Dmitry. Vasily Shuisky, who investigated the incident in Uglich, executed 200 Uglich residents, and on April 1, 1592, exiled 60 families to Siberia (mainly to Pelym). The alarm bell, which by that time, as chronicles and legends say, was already three hundred years old, when the instigator of the riot was thrown from the Spasskaya bell tower, his tongue was torn out, his ear was cut off, he was publicly punished in the square with 12 lashes and “exiled” to Siberia. There are indications that the Uglich people dragged him into exile for almost a year.

The Tobolsk convict prison became notorious, through which Fyodor Dostoevsky, Vladimir Korolenko, and many others passed. Now on the territory of the prison there is a museum, a hostel in the prison ward, and prison quests - “prison escape”.

Monument to Ershov.

The other side of perfect asphalt.

Burnt plastic containers for garbage.

The lower levels of the houses' cladding were mercilessly destroyed by the punks' kicks.

Eternal flame.

Moscow is behind us.

The investigation into the death of Tsarevich Dimitri ended in 1591, as was usual in that era, with torture and executions. The naked ones (with the exception of Mary, who was forcibly tonsured a nun) ended up in prison.

The Uglich residents didn’t fare well either. About two hundred people were executed, many people were sent into exile - to the distant Siberian city of Pelym. Siberia was just being developed at that time; it was almost impossible to live normally there. In principle, the people were sent to suffer and die prematurely.

The authorities punished even the big Uglich bell, who called the townspeople for reprisals that day. They cut off his “ear” (which is why they called him “corn-eared”) and sent him to the same Siberian exile - though not to Pelym, but to.

In Tobolsk, the voivode Prince Lobanov-Rostovsky ordered to lock up Exiled Uglich bell in the official hut and make an inscription on it:

“The first inanimate exile from Uglich.”

The “conclusion,” however, did not last long: soon the “corn-eared” bell was placed next to the belfry. And in 1677, during the great Tobolsk fire, when the wooden St. Sophia Cathedral also burned down, the bell allegedly melted - “it rang out without a trace.” Or almost melted.

Again, the versions are split into two, just as the interpretations of the circumstances of the death of Tsarevich Dimitri were split in two at one time.

According to one version, in the 18th century a “new Uglitsky bell” was cast in Tobolsk - using iconographic terminology, as if it were a “list” of the old one. To “distinguish it from other bells,” Metropolitan Pavel (Konyuskevich) of Tobolsk ordered the following inscription to be made on it:

“This bell, which sounded the alarm during the murder of the noble Tsarevich Dimitri in 1591, was sent from the city of Uglich to Siberia for exile in the city of Tobolsk to the Church of the All-Merciful Savior, which was at the auction, and then on the Sofia bell tower was clocked, weighing 19 pounds . 20 pounds.”

In 1890, the Tobolsk Museum bought the bell from the diocese. By that time, it was placed on a small belfry specially built for it and served as a local landmark.

But the people of Uglich have not forgotten their “inanimate first exile.” In 1849, they submitted a petition to the Ministry of Internal Affairs for the return of the alarm bell, and Nicholas I decreed:

“to satisfy this request” - “having first ascertained the validity of the existence of the said bell in Tobolsk.”

But a specially created commission made sure that the bell was “wrong.” The Uglich residents’ request remained without the consequences they expected. They were convinced that the “first exile” no longer existed.

However, at the very end of the 19th century Uglich exile bell arrived in Uglich. And studies of its composition conducted in the 1980s showed that it was most likely cast in the 15th century. And that means it’s still the same one?

Probably every family has at least one dark story that is told to guests in the evening. But I was sure that we couldn’t have anything worse than the memories of the war years. However, I was wrong.

We come from a small Siberian village, in which, judging by my grandmother’s memories, nothing special ever happened. Everyone lived there tightly. The chairman of the collective farm was a smart guy, and his heirs turned out to be the same: they kept everything they had, and were even able to increase it. So no one wanted to leave there. Except for the bride: all around are relatives. But everyone returned. With rare exceptions. My grandmother Rina was such an exception. I went to study at a technical school and stayed in the city. Last year my grandmother died, and before her death she made me promise to visit my village relatives. So that her great-grandson, my son, knows about his roots. We had been planning for a whole year, but we couldn’t put it off any longer, so let’s go.

We arrived and were stunned. Despite my grandmother's stories, I expected to see rickety log houses and drunken old people, but instead - gingerbread houses along a good road without a single pothole! Our relatives received us with joy. We whiled away the evening at the large dining table - eating pancakes with village sour cream, drinking tea with currant leaves and sharing memories. The son immediately became friends with his cousins ​​and disappeared the next morning. The boys came running just to grab something, and then they seemed to disappear. But Arina, the mother of the children (and one of my, respectively, second cousins), just waved her hand: everyone here is their own, no one will give offense. My husband became friends with the local head of the family, my cousin. And somehow I talked more and more with his second daughter Nina. She was younger than Arina, like me. Nina was less fortunate in life: she was widowed a year after the wedding. Since then I have never met the right person. Nina and I walked.

That time we went to the woods and were already returning home with baskets full of blueberries. I became more and more sympathetic to this village, and my sister told me what was here and how. And suddenly it dawned on me: this is my place! The thought flashed in my head like lightning:
“What,” I say, “don’t you need an experienced accountant here?”
- Do you have any ideas? - Nina became interested.
“He’s walking nearby,” I answer, and I smile.
- And are you ready to live here? - she asks with a chuckle. - Look: here it’s a long drive to get to the benefits of civilization. Even the electricity can go out for several hours.

But it was as if someone was pulling my tongue:
- Why not? - I say. - We’ll sell the apartment and rebuild here. I noticed the place too.
I stop and take the camera out of my pocket, leaf through the pictures, looking for the one. For some reason I liked a hillock not far from the outskirts, overgrown with sparse birch trees and thorny bushes, so I photographed it. Nina narrowed her eyes, took a closer look, and then demanded:
- Remove it now!
- Here's another! - I flared up.
Nina stubbornly pursed her lips, turned around and walked towards the village. And I remained standing, puzzled by this turn.

That evening Nina did not come out for dinner. I suffered. I wondered: maybe she has something connected with this place. And, unable to bear it, she went to Antonina, Nina’s mother. I was just washing the dishes after dinner, and I tried to help. We talked about this and that, and then I, as if by chance:
- I know what is bad about a person behind his back... But, in my opinion, I offended Nina, but I don’t know how.
Antonina looked at me in surprise, questioned me, and then put the plates on the shelf and called me to a small table by the window. It turned out that our family also has its own terrible story from a hundred years ago, which Antonina told me.

The nickname Neskladekha stuck to Mitrofan at the age of twelve, when he stretched out before everyone else, becoming like a pole. The angular youthful figure and height embarrassed the boy. He shunned people more and more and sat for a long time on a hillock near the old mill, of which all that remained was the skeleton and a couple of mossy millstones. It was there that in the evening one could enjoy the iridescent ringing of bells coming from the north, where in a distant village there was a large church, much larger than the local one, which did not even have a bell tower! It was the ringing of the bells that drove Mitrofan to the damned place.

It was called “cursed” because no matter who undertook to rebuild the chalk, everything was the same - the flour gave off a bitter taste, and the owners quarreled, sometimes even leading to death. But Neskladekha benefited from such fame: thanks to her, here he could, alone, lounging on the soft grass, listen to the bells melodiously chiming in the distance. And when the time came to decide where to go, Mitrofan went north. Although without my father's blessing. “You won’t find anything there - only strangers,” said Vit, looking sternly at his son. “Don’t expect good from strangers.” But Mitrofan did not give up his intentions even after a dozen rods put forward by his father as a final argument.

He got up early, wrapped the bread and onion that his mother had hidden in a rag, bowed to the images and went where good people, in Vitus’s opinion, would never go themselves. And even then, there were few people who wanted to live with the exiles. But Mitrofan was not afraid of this either. He was led along, as if by a thread, by an old passion - the desire to learn how to make bells ring so that people’s hearts would respond. The song of the bells always attracted him. That’s why he ran to the damned place to listen to the bells ringing for Vespers. And when on holidays and at funerals the elder bell spoke, the boy’s heart completely swelled with delight. Many days have passed since Mitrofan collapsed at the church gate in the first snow, barely alive from fatigue and hunger.

Winter passed, new leaves appeared and blossomed, and then the first fruits appeared. It was then that Bogdan, the priest of the local parish, gave in to the requests of the boy, who had previously meekly taken on even the most menial jobs. He promised to teach him the bell-ringing craft. Mitrofan now knew that the bells needed special care. That their voice changes depending on the weather, and “gets old” over time, becomes untrue. It is difficult to work with old bells: each has its own character, its own whims. One day Mitrofan and the priest went behind the old barracks. The boy had known for a long time that Bogdan went there once a week and disappeared for a long time. The priest never had anything with him. Just a heavy bunch of keys on my belt and occasionally a piece of rag. The priest took Mitrophan with him for the first time. But I even ordered to step onto the threshold of a large gloomy log house.

Oh, it’s not for nothing that they say that curiosity kills! The boy could not resist and cast a timid glance into the small dark room. And it took my breath away! I didn’t even notice how I ended up on the threshold. Bogdan had already lit the candle, lit a kerosene lamp from it, and only then realized it. But it was too late: Mitrofan stepped over the threshold, looking wide with surprise at the heavy, low shelves. “Uncle Bogdan, what is this?” - the boy whispered. “Exiled bells,” the priest responded with a sigh. "Exiles?" - Mitrofan asked, without taking his eyes off the shelves.

Bogdan shook his head: “Oh, you shouldn’t be here,” he sighed again, and then put the kerosene stove on the table, blackened by time, and sat down heavily on the stool. "Anyway. Since ancient times in Rus', bells have called for rebellion. That is why, when the rebellion was suppressed, the bell was sent to Siberia along with the exiles. They tore out his tongue and branded him like a real criminal. That's the whole story." The boy, having forgotten himself, rushed to one bell, strained, lifted it, and large tears rolled down his pale cheeks: as the priest said, the tongue of the bell was torn out.

“But how...,” Mitrofan babbled, sobbing, letting go of the metal that had not warmed up from the living warmth from his hands. The bell fell heavily onto the shelf. The old tree could not stand it - it cracked. The bell rolled to the floor, and suddenly its voice sounded abruptly and dullly, centuries later. “The exiled bell began to speak,” the priest said annoyedly. - Don't expect anything good. I should rip your hands off for this. Well, maybe no one heard.” “I heard,” the boy spoke quietly. “He’s here... this voice,” Mitrofan clutched his cassock on his chest. - Calling." “The exiled bell calls the rebellious soul,” the priest shook his head. “Let’s go, boy.”

The senior shift worker, Semyon Dvoren, looked with pain at Mitrofan, who had been silently rocking back and forth on the bed for the third day. “I told you, don’t take him with you! Said?!" The priest nodded. “Why now...” “You should have called me right away,” the nobleman looked at Bogdan reproachfully. - Such bell ringers are not born every day. - Those who sense the soul of the bell and hear its voice, even if it fell silent centuries ago. What kind of bell did he hear?” “Streletsky,” Bogdan covered his face with his palms, and his shoulders trembled.

“Well, well,” Semyon went to the closet, opened the doors in a businesslike manner and took out a glass bottle with a cloudy liquid. Having poured it into two wooden glasses, he forcefully removed his hands from the priest’s tear-stained face, forced him to take one, and placed the other on the table. Bogdan, with a convulsive sigh, tossed the contents of the glass into his mouth. While the priest was coming to his senses, Dvoren twisted Mitrofan with one hand, and with the other he inserted the handle of a wooden spoon between his clenched jaws. "Lei!" - he barked at the priest. Bogdan walked up to the bed and poured a thin stream of moonshine into the boy’s mouth. He coughed. Tears welled up in his eyes and he whimpered softly. “Well, that’s good,” nodded the Nobleman. - And it’s good that Solovetsky didn’t hear. A hundred restless souls. Somehow an angel took him away...”

It was quickly getting dark outside. I sat and listened, spellbound. I just couldn’t understand why Antonina was telling me this.
- What does this have to do with me? - I voiced my bewilderment.
“Direct,” Antonina answered, as if waking up. - This Mitrofan is my husband’s great-nephew. And you chose the place where he listened to the bells ringing.
- Is this all true? Well, about the bells - for some reason the topic interested me seriously.
- About the link? Of course, it’s true,” Antonina nodded. - There is even a belief that exiled bells speak with the voice of unaccounted souls.
- What does “unaccounted for” mean? - I immediately asked.

No one knows about them except the murderers,” Antonina answered. - It is believed that it is forbidden to listen to exile bells. They take lives to pay for unaccounted for souls. So they cleaned up Mitrofan. The priest brought him back. He told me what happened. But not even a month had passed since Mitrofan ended his life in the very place that you liked so much. They say the millstones were covered in blood, as if he had hit his head on them. He was buried there. There used to be a cross on the hill, but it rotted and collapsed, and a new one was never erected.
I felt uneasy. Suddenly I remembered that it was somehow cold in that place, despite the warm, even hot day. Then I was happy about the coolness, but now, after my aunt’s words, I thought about it. We parted: it seemed like it was time to sleep. And I took the camera out of my pocket, deleted the picture and felt such relief, as if a heavy load had been lifted from my shoulders.

Of course, we didn’t move to the village, but we maintain relations with our relatives. And since then I haven’t been able to calmly listen to church bells. I remember that story every time.

Larisa SHURYGINA, 35 years old