Vera Sergeevna Novitskaya
Little is known about her.
Born Schilder-Schuldner, by her first husband Makhtsevich, by her second husband Novitskaya.
The first two books were written by Vera Sergeevna before her second marriage and were signed “Vera Makhtsevich”.
Since then, her last name on books was written as Vera Novitskaya (Makhtsevich), so that no one would forget.
From 1905 to 1907 she lived in St. Petersburg, and then her first books were written.
In 1908, she became a teacher in the women's gymnasium of the city of Lida (then it was the Vilna province Russian Empire, after the First World War the city belonged to Poland, now it is located in Belarus.)
There, together with her future husband Fyodor Ludvigovich Novitsky, Vera Sergeevna compiled a textbook for preparatory and first grades of secondary educational institutions. “Corners of Life”
In the book by N. Dmitriev " National school" 1913 there is the following review of this collection:
"The book is divided into 5 parts: love, faith, work, duty and “motley pages.” The most extensive space is devoted to the first section - love; here are stories and poems about love for God, for homeland and man, many of them are good, however, trying to bring possible more material, developing a feeling of love in children, the compilers are noticeably carried away and include poems and articles that are either poorly understood or completely inaccessible to children in preparatory and first grades, for example, the first poem of part II: “Believe in great power love”, or “The Highest Feat”, A. S. Khomyakova, “We are given life to love” - Gorbunova-Posadova, and others. There are no necessary patriotic poems, the fatherland is not given due attention; but there are decent stories in the departments: work and duty, although not all, and especially in the “faith” department; We have nothing to object to the last section. General impression about the book would be good if there were no indicated main shortcomings of the book."
The first wife of Fyodor Lyudvigovich was Maria Konstantinovna Novitskaya, the founder and head of the Lida gymnasium. Her life's dream was to establish a full-fledged gymnasium in the city of Lida.
But in November 1908, Maria Konstantinovna dies, and less than half a year later her dream comes true and the pro-gymnasium becomes a gymnasium.
And since then it has been listed in directories as “Lida Private Women’s Gymnasium of F.L. and V.S. Novitsky,” and Vera Sergeevna became the headmaster there.
In 1915, during the First World War, the city of Lida was captured by the Germans.
She didn't write many books.
First of all, she wrote a tetralogy about the life of Marusya Starobelskaya, a spontaneous and lively girl who describes her life in detail. One of the charms of the book is precisely in the unexpected detailed description things common at that time. Musya is a girl from rich family, the only daughter of her loving parents.
Everything in her life—friendship, studies, and pranks—is carefree and joyful. She is a kind girl - but only because she has something to give to others without harming herself... And only in the last part of the series Musya understands that not everyone lives like her...
The book series looks like this:
“It’s good to live in the world” - Musya talks about her life before entering the gymnasium.
“Happy Everyday Life” - (The subtitle “The Diary of a Gymnasium Student” speaks for itself) This story is about Musya’s first year of study at the gymnasium.
"Halcyon Years" - the penultimate class of the gymnasium. Musya, who has not changed at all, plays pranks as in childhood.
"First dreams" - summer and graduating class gymnasium.
The stories “It’s Good to Live in the World”, “Halcyon Years”, “First Dreams” were illustrated by the famous artist Elena Petrovna Samokishch-Sudkovskaya, and in the book “Halcyon Years” and “First Dreams” (they were published together in one book) the illustrations are in color, which very interesting and very beautiful.
She also wrote two stories for young people, where the main theme is a love line. Both of them are named after the main characters:
"Galya" and "Natasha Slavina", a story for children "Basurmanka" (about the life of an adopted French orphan in a Russian family), a collection of stories "Treasured Corners", and a separately published story "A Motley Day." (A story from the life of a little cadet)" And she participated in the compilation of the already mentioned anthology “Corners of Life”.
Vera Sergeevna also collaborated with the children's magazine "Rodnik", where her stories were published.
So I start writing down my memories. Such interesting things often happen to me, and then I notice so many things and think that if these leaflets ever get to my grandchildren or great-grandchildren, they really won’t get bored reading them.
First of all, I will tell you who I am and what I am.
I’m nine years old and my name is Marusya, but they just call me Musya, a cousin, Volodya, for some reason Murka. After all, boys always do something inhumane! I am not particularly beautiful... But my mother is very pretty! Let’s face it, it’s not entirely the same, but it’s still nice that there’s someone in the family you can brag about. And I can safely be proud of my mother: she is a real beauty and very, very young! All the cab drivers take her for a young lady when we walk down the street with her: “You’re welcome, ladies, I’ll give you a dashing ride!” And not just the cabbies, but all of them absolutely can’t be surprised how such a young, pretty mother has such a big plump daughter, since I’m a decent bedside table.
Dad and Mom always tell me that I’m ugly; but from this it will not become clear to readers what I am like, because there are different types of ugly people. Now I will explain in more detail. My hair is black, curly, and quite short, which brings my poor mother to real despair: no matter how you comb it, after half an hour it sticks out in all directions (“like an Indian king’s,” says Volodya). My eyes are also completely black, and my dad calls them “cockroaches.” My nose is slightly upward, and the disgusting Volodka assures me that everything I think can be seen through it. Of course, this is nonsense, and he says this only to tease me, but what a blessing that in reality this cannot be so! After all, it would be terrible if the elders sometimes saw what I was thinking about! In general, my poor nose has no luck: my mother’s brother, Uncle Kolya, always squeezes my nose thumb, saying: “ding-ding!” and assures that the style is wonderful for an electric bell button. My face is round, white, and my cheeks are always pink; but Uncle Kolya found something to complain about here too and says that it’s definitely circled with a compass. In my opinion, this is not true: a face is just a face. Besides, is it really bad if it’s circled like a compass? it means neat, not crooked - some kind of oblique.
It takes a lot of work for poor mommy to deal with me; I feel very sorry for her, but what can I do when, as if on purpose, during a lesson something extraneous keeps popping into my head, and I just can’t think about what is being explained to me. Some tasks are going quite well for us, and even my mother praises me, but she will never do this for nothing.
Who knows, maybe one day I will become a famous female mathematician. Then the public will vie to read my memoirs! But when will this be? And now we have to study more lessons for tomorrow.
I re-read everything that was written from the very beginning. What a blessing that mommy didn’t see these lines! I’m not talking about the blots, but the mistakes are such that I could barely make out some of the words myself... Is it worth writing further? Perhaps my posterity will not understand anything?.. However, if only this gets into print, then in the office, or in the editorial office (what is it called there?), they will probably correct all the mistakes first. Look how many books are printed, but there are never any mistakes; It can’t be that all writers are so well literate! It’s not difficult to invent a story, but I will never believe that no one, absolutely no one among the writers, ever made a mistake in the letter “yat” and in the endings “eat” and “ish”!
Our family. - My dolls
Apart from me, we have no children in the house. It's horrible! Just as I ask my mother for my sister - no, I still can’t question her! And most importantly, it’s worse for them: if I weren’t alone, I would bother them much less, but I’m so bored; It’s a great pleasure, just think, to sit with a French woman and talk! And she’s a nitpicker: no matter what I say, she’ll certainly correct it, everything’s wrong, everything’s not according to her; only wise; and who knows, is she still speaking correctly? If I had a sister, it would be a completely different matter; we would play and run together; It would even be more fun to study, otherwise it would be all alone!
Dad and Mom left in the morning for the funeral of an old general they knew, and therefore I didn’t have any lessons. Mademoiselle was delighted and immediately locked herself in her room, her nose buried in some book. She always does this when mom isn't home. Out of boredom, I went to look for my doll Zina, who had long been sitting, poor thing, unclothed and unfed, in her chair in the nursery behind the closet; and little Lily lies on the crib next to her. I looked at them and felt ashamed. For some reason, it seems to me that the dolls understand everything, they cannot speak, they cannot move on their own, but I am convinced that they also feel everything, and are sad and happy. And now it seemed to me that Zina looked at me with such reproach! In general, I love her less than the pretty blond Lily, although I try not to show it: if I kiss one, then I’ll kiss the other; If Lily sometimes gets an extra kiss, it’s somewhere in another room, when I’m convinced that Zina can’t see. In general, I prefer dolls with soft bodies filled with sawdust and porcelain heads; they are more comfortable to play with. I had one of these, her name was Tamara, she got sick very often, so after illness I always made a hole in her somewhere and poured out a little sawdust; she, of course, was losing weight because of it; Well, then I started treating her, taking her somewhere abroad or to Crimea; there she recovered and returned much plumper. To do this, I poured the same sawdust into it, and sometimes added sand; it came out very natural. Only once I overdid it and poured too much sand, so that the skin could not stand it and burst; I had to sew a patch on this place.
I think that this is why our mothers give us dolls, so that from childhood we learn to be kind, caring mothers. I am very ashamed, and it is probably even a sin, but it seems to me that I will be very bad mother and wife. Little children: it’s so boring, it squeaks so much, it’s so annoying, and if they are silent, like my dolls, then it’s so easy to forget about them, go on a visit, and they will remain at home hungry.
In general, what kind of desire to get married? What are husbands? after all, all these nasty boys, like Sasha Sokolov, Petya Ugryumov, Kolya Strepetov, and all Volodin’s other comrades - after all, that’s who I, for example, will have to marry. God forbid! I won't marry you for anything!!!
At three o'clock our people returned from the funeral and with them was one of my father's colleagues, Leonid Georgievich. At dinner, my mother said that the old man was buried in the church under a slab, that it cost two thousand rubles, but it was wonderful. I didn’t understand this at all, but I didn’t want to ask in front of someone else. Why bury a person under a slab when you can bury him in the ground? And what is the stove there for? Who cooks on it? I understand that if they still prepared food for the saints there, it would be an honor to lie under it, but, firstly, they are not on earth; and secondly, they wouldn’t eat anything... Is it really cooked for priests?... Then, it must be only for single people, because when we were once at Father Ivan’s and dined there, it wasn’t brought to him from the church, but by mother herself I went to the kitchen. And how come I never noticed slabs in churches? Strangely terrible! I'll ask mom.
War with mademoiselle. - My knowledge
Mommy gives a lot of lessons; French dictations especially annoy me. Before mlle started doing them for me, but it seems that she herself doesn’t know much better than me, because she always corrected my dictations according to the book, and once I asked her how to write the word mIchant, so she said that through "ai"; Mommy heard this and after that she began to work with me.
I updated the information about Vera Sergeevna Novitskaya a little:
Vera Sergeevna Novitskaya (187(3?)-19??)
née Schilder-Schuldner
She graduated from the Foundry Women's Gymnasium in 1890. (Foundry Women's Gymnasium - Baseinaya St. (now Nekrasova), 15A)
Last name after her first husband is Makhtsevich.
It is possible that the husband's name was Alexander Vladimirovich Makhtsevich. He graduated from Vilna infantry schools, served in the 107th Trinity Infantry Regiment (Vilna), retired in 1899. In 1901-1903, the district police officer of the Rezhitsa district police department, in 1903-1905, the police chief of the city of Dvinsk. There is no more information about him.
Possible names of children from their first marriage: Boris, Natasha and Kysya (what name could it be abbreviated from? Christina?) From 1905 to 1907, Vera Sergeevna lived in St. Petersburg (17 Baseinaya St. (now Nekrasova)) At the same time, her first books were written.
Apparently she lived without her husband, since he is not listed in the address book. At the same time, Vera Sergeevna is listed as the wife, not the widow, of the college adviser. (Separated?)
The first two books were written by Vera Sergeevna before her second marriage and were signed “Vera Makhtsevich”.
In August 1908, she became an assistant to the headmistress at the women's gymnasium in the city of Lida (then it was the Vilna province of the Russian Empire, after the First World War the city belonged to Poland, now it is located in Belarus.)
There, together with one of the gymnasium teachers, Fyodor Ludvigovich Novitsky, Vera Sergeevna compiled a textbook for preparatory and first grades of secondary educational institutions. “Corners of Life”
In N. Dmitriev’s book “National School” 1913 there is the following review of this collection:
The founder and head of the Lida gymnasium at that time was Maria Konstantinovna Novitskaya, the first wife of Fyodor Lyudvigovich. Her life's dream was to establish a full-fledged gymnasium in the city of Lida. But in November 1908, Maria Konstantinovna died.
In 1909, Vera Sergeevna married a widower, Fyodor Ludwigovich Novitsky and took his last name. Since then, her last name on books has been written as Vera Novitskaya (Makhtsevich), so that no one would forget.
Since 1910, the pro-gymnasium has become a gymnasium, and since then it has been listed in reference books as “Lida Private Women’s Gymnasium F.L. and V.S. Novitskikh”, and Vera Sergeevna becomes the boss there.
In 1915, during the First World War, the city of Lida was captured by the Germans.
There is no more information about Vera Sergeevna, her husband, or her children.
Two photographs of the Lida Girls' Gymnasium
She didn't write many books.
First of all, she wrote a tetralogy about the life of Marusya Starobelskaya, a spontaneous and lively girl who describes her life in detail. One of the charms of the book lies in the unexpectedly detailed description of everyday things at that time. Musya is a girl from a rich family, the only daughter of parents who love her.
Everything in her life—friendship, studies, and pranks—is carefree and joyful. She is a kind girl - but only because she has something to give to others without harming herself... And only in the last part of the series Musya understands that not everyone lives like her...
The book series looks like this:
“It’s good to live in the world” - Musya talks about her life before entering the gymnasium.
“Happy Everyday Life” - (The subtitle “The Diary of a Gymnasium Student” speaks for itself) This story is about Musya’s first year of study at the gymnasium.
"Halcyon Years" - the penultimate class of the gymnasium. Musya, who has not changed at all, plays pranks as in childhood
“First dreams” - summer and graduating class of the gymnasium.
The stories “It’s Good to Live in the World”, “Halcyon Years”, “First Dreams” were illustrated by the famous artist Elena Petrovna Samokishch-Sudkovskaya, and in the book “Halcyon Years” and “First Dreams” (they were published together in one book) the illustrations are in color, which very interesting and very beautiful.
She also wrote two stories for young people, where the main theme is a love line. Both of them are named after the main characters:
"Galya" and "Natasha Slavina", a story for children "Basurmanka" (about the life of an adopted French orphan in a Russian family), a collection of stories "Treasured Corners", and a separately published story "A Motley Day." (A story from the life of a little cadet)" And she participated in the compilation of the already mentioned anthology “Corners of Life”.
Vera Sergeevna also collaborated with the children's magazine "Rodnik", where her stories were published.
I came across her story “It’s Good to Live in the World” by chance in a second-hand bookstore, and I’m scared to think how much I would have lost if I hadn’t bought it...
V. S. Novitskaya
Happy everyday life
From the memories of a high school student
Prayer service. - Japanese.
Well, now I’m a real high school student, I’m even wearing a uniform dress! That is, it’s not that very formal, because it has folds and frills, the apron is also trimmed with wings and lace, but still the dress I’m wearing is brown, and the apron is black. It even seems to me that I have grown a little, but this may only seem so, because after all, I am the smallest in our class. How nice it is to say - our class, our gymnasium!
I wore my uniform for the first time to a prayer service, and - imagine! - there were such eccentrics who appeared in colorful dresses. Here's the hunt!
As soon as we arrived, the boss herself took all of us new ones and took us into the hall for a prayer service. It was scary hot. Two or three girls from high school fainted, but they say it’s nothing, it always happens.
We finished praying, a little blue girl came up to us and led us up the stairs to the very top, because the kids - the preparators, we, the sixth and fifth grades - were all in the upper corridor. It turned out that this was our cool lady. Well, of course, she introduced herself to us right away. Terribly cute: short stature, but she’s a decent plump girl, with a round, round face, as Uncle Kolya says, circled with a compass, big, brown, cheerful eyes that sparkle like wet cherries; the nose is very short, upper lip Same; she will laugh - it’s as if her whole face is pulled up with a string, and her teeth are large, white, just like the inspector’s, they look like almonds; she is alive, cheerful, and spinning around. Dusya!
So she began to seat us on the benches.
During the prayer service, I noticed one terribly cute girl, in a dark blue dress, with two long light braids, we stood next to her, and then, while we were going upstairs, we had time to talk a little; her name is Yulia Beck. I really wanted to sit on the same bench with her, but that was not the case - she tall, and they drove her to the third, and they put me on the first, not quite forward, but in the second column from the teacher’s table. It’s a wonderful place, there’s nothing to grumble about, but if you only knew who they put with me!
I also noticed her before, and it’s hard to miss: I look - she’s Japanese, well, really Japanese, and the style of her face is the same, and her eyes are slightly upward. - Ugh! True, she is quite white and has a wonderful thick brown braid below her waist, but she is still Japanese. And suddenly - they put me, exactly me, with her! I almost cried with anger.
There’s nothing to be done, we’re sitting next to each other, but I deliberately don’t say a word to her, as if she doesn’t exist. Here's another, maybe her uncle, or our brothers; Russians were killed, but I’m going to talk to her! And why was she only accepted into our gymnasium?
Turned away. But still interesting. At first I started looking at her sideways, but then I couldn’t stand it, I turned around completely: after all, we’ll be sitting together, inevitably we’ll have to get to know each other in the end.
While I was thinking about all this, a cool lady walked from one bench to another and asked each girl’s name, last name and who she was, Orthodox or not. She got to us too. I said. Then he asks the Japanese woman:
What's your last name?
Snezhina.
Are you Orthodox?
Here's a pound!.. that is... pardon (sorry (French)), I wanted to say: that's the thing, here's a “Japanese” for you!
I was terribly glad that I was mistaken, now I can make friends with her. Now, of course, we started talking. But she is absolutely cute, especially when she speaks or smiles, her mouth folds into a bow in such an amusing way, and she bursts into cheerful laughter.
That day we were not kept in the gymnasium for long, they only told us to write down what books and notebooks we needed to buy, and then we were sent home.
We chatted with Lyuba as much as we could, but in just half an hour, how much can you do? We’ll make up for nothing, because I really love to talk, and my “Japanese”, apparently, is no slouch in this area either.
After lunch, mom and I went to get everything we needed. We bought books, notebooks, and a backpack; - it was the most interesting! Mommy wanted a bag; but then I waved my arms and legs. Just think: if I buy a bag, then the maid will carry it for me - it’s terribly necessary! - whereas I’ll put the backpack on my shoulders myself; everyone from a distance will see that the schoolgirl is coming.
We also bought a whole lot of white paper for wrapping notebooks, paper blots and ribbons. Of course, the blot paper is not an ordinary pink one, as in every notebook they give for free - phew! no, I have them in two colors: wonderful light lilac with crimson ribbons, and others light yellow with soft blue ribbons. Is it bad taste? Quite bon genre (good form (French)), even my mother approved.