“That bread will be long in baking,” thought Peter with a bitter smile. “Before we can begin to teach Europe we must ourselves learn to speak Russian, write, print, bind and make paper.”
He dictated an ukase:—
“In all towns and villages all bits of rags and linen should be carefully collected and sent to the chief office in Petersburg, where fourpence per pood will be paid for them.”
These rags were intended for the paper factories.
Then followed the ukase about the melting of fat, the right way of plaiting bast shoes, and the dressing of hides for boot leather: “Inasmuch as the hide commonly used for shoe leather is exceedingly unfit for wear, being dressed with tar, which does not prevent it from rotting, nor from letting water in in damp weather, it would be more expedient to dress the same with train oil.”
He glanced at his slate, which, together with a piece of pencil, hung at the head of his bed; he used to note on it any thought which occurred to him during the night. That night he had jotted down:
“Where should manure be deposited? Don’t forget Persia—mats.”
He made Makaroff read out the ambassador Volinsky’s letter concerning Persia.
“The present monarch here is such a fool that it would be difficult to find his equal even among simple peasant folk, much less among the crowned heads. His power will not last long. Although our present war with the Swedes may hinder us, yet, nevertheless, seeing the feeble resources of this country as I do, I deem it possible to annex a major part of Persia simply with a small force. There could not possibly be a more favourable time than the present.”
In his answer to Volinsky, Peter ordered him to send merchants down the river Amu-Daria in order to discover a water way to India, and to draw a map describing it. At the same time to prepare a letter to the Grand Mogul—the Dalai Lama of Tibet. (A road to India, an alliance between Europe and Asia, was an old dream of Peter’s.)