Architect labor emigration h1>
Kostikov Vyacheslav Vasilyevich.
We will not curse exile (The ways and destinies of the Russian emigration)
We will not curse the exile.
Ways and destinies of the Russian emigration.
V. Kostikov’s book “Let’s not curse the exile.” Is, we might say, the first attempt at an unbiased story of Russian emigration. It is written in the form of a free essay. This is a lively and emotional story about the ways and destinies of the Russian emigration of the “first wave.” Paying special attention to the cultural and moral life of the Russian emigre, the author does not leave unattended the fate of the “little man” of emigration. The reader will find in the book many everyday details from the life of emigration, get acquainted with the fate of emigrant children, this “undetected generation”. The book clearly feels the desire to comprehend the place of emigration in the general flow of Russian culture, its contribution to the cultural heritage of mankind.
For a wide range of readers.
Chapter 1. Revived memory.
Chapter 2. The way to emigration.
Chapter 3. In the center of Europe.
Chapter 4. Bridges to Russia.
Chapter 5. Anxiety and testing.
Chapter 6. “All humps with Russia”
Chapter 7. Cogito, ergo sum.
Chapter 8. Farewell to Berlin.
Chapter 1. The Paris refuge.
Chapter 2. “The Unheeded Generation”
Chapter 3. Students.
Chapter 4. “Universities of the spirit”
Chapter 5. Home from Heaven.
Chapter b. The smoke of the fatherland.
Chapter 7. In Search of the City.
Chapter 8. The Secret of the “Kursk Nightingale”
Chapter 9. “Let us not curse the exile.”
Letters from Mikhail Osorgin (To an old friend in Moscow, to friends during the years of occupation)
From the chronicle of the cultural life of the Russian emigration in France.
One of the words that constantly sounded among the Russian emigres was prayer, a call, like a spell, was, undoubtedly, the word “memory.” Along with another prayer word – “homeland” – the call to memory sounded almost from every page of abundant Russian foreign journalism and fiction. This memory was addressed primarily to the past of Russia. The emigration took the roots of the tribal Russian nobility, twisted by revolution, to the alien shores, and the memory of the former owners of the “noble nests” knocked on numerous Russian magazines and newspapers, as if wishing to leave a trace of permanently gone time on the short-lived pages of emigrant publications.
Quiet, breathing fragrances of forgotten estates and “dark alleys” memory is perhaps the most charming page of emigrant memoirs, but far from the most interesting. All this was only a weak, although not devoid of a piquant charm, the translation of the familiar motifs of Russian classical literature, seasoned with local color, depending on where the former estates were located: in Tambov, Kursk, Nizhny Novgorod or Orel provinces. Some describe the river or meadow, which looked the windows of the manor estate, others – the heat of the Orenburg steppe, the third – the hot smell of the Little Russian field. These numerous “memories” scattered through the pages of secondary newspapers and magazines (solid emigre publications like the plague, eschewed these noble notes from the past), with all their external diversity, have one striking common feature: they are extremely meek and genteel. It would be in vain to seek the echoes of “class battles.” They even have something apologetic – as if the aristocratic memoirists had long been ready for what would happen, and if they were surprised, it did not happen, but the fact that “all this” happened so quickly, so unexpectedly. The reason is probably in the inner, perhaps even unconscious, understanding that both the landlord mode and the aristocratic “refinements” of the two capitals have long existed as an atavism and that Russian life itself tolerated them only because of its enormous inertia: it was in some kind of historical mercy, which sooner or later had to be exhausted.
The Russian aristocracy, the “steppe landowners”, the owners of the Petersburg palaces, Moscow’s mansions, Moscow estates, cottages in the Crimea, despite the fact that they lost everything in the revolution and, with rare exceptions, in very limited material conditions, in their memoirs proved to be the most neutral. And they left, in fact, very little – negligible compared to the plentiful memoirs of the literary and artistic intelligentsia. In their proud and mournful silence there is a kind of modest nobility; their memoirs restraint, they seem to say to themselves and others: our time is over, we leave the same historical field to those in whom there are still forces for the present and future life.
But for the most part the memory of emigration wanted to be and was active. With all the harshness of the assessments of what was happening in Russia, for all the rejection of the new history in this memory of “cursed days” (if you use the expression of I. Bunin), always experienced, or almost always, that experience, the grains of truth that emigration wanted to put the threshold of the fatherland. This active memory, being often unkind, furious, unacceptable, in the end turned out to be much more fruitful and more necessary than an amorphous “manor memorial”. Renouncing the new story, she felt herself to be a living participant. While writing page after page, the emigre chroniclers constantly looked back towards the new Russia, they all tried on it, everyone took it out of it. The active memory of emigration understood that the time would come, the dope of mutual evil would disperse, the myths and legends of the civil war, the knights of the knights of the revolution and the counter-revolutionaries will take their place in the same halls of historical museums and the whole experience of history will come in useful at the construction of a free fatherland. Including experience, carried away in emigration or born in it. “Each generation can have its own ideals, my own, yours have others, and it’s a pity for a generation that does not have any,” 1 wrote V. Kluchevsky.
Despite the mosaic nature of emigration that took “all Russia” abroad in miniature, with all the variety of ways and means of “saving Russia” from Russian emigration, such an ideal existed – a great, free and democratic Russia. With regard to those who left for emigration and remained within the homeland, using the words of the Westernizer of Herzen on the Slavophiles, we can say: “Yes, we were opponents of them, but very strange.” We had one love, but not the same, and we, like Janus or two-headed eagle, looked in different directions while one heart was beating one “2.
The emigration had many vices. Probably, there are no mortal sins through which these people who lost their earthly gravity did not pass. The sins of emigration were considered for a long time through the most magnifying glass, were savored and dragged out for a general blasphemy. In the worst years of our history, the real or imaginary sins of emigration were widely used to combat honest and free thought in Soviet Russia, primarily for defaming the intelligentsia. We are still remembering quite recent times when, as a flogging of honest Soviet writers, the feldwebel from culture called them “literary Wrangel”, hinting that they betrayed the interests of the people.
Studying the legacy and lessons of emigration, one can not help but admit that, sinking into sins peculiar to life in isolation from its own people – in the sin of verbiage, philistinism, self-conceit or, on the contrary, self-abasement (more often), emigration has preserved itself from the main, Pecherin “sin. And only some madman in drunken hopeless despair could repeat the notorious:
How sweet to hate the homeland.
And it is greedy to wait for its destruction,
And in the destruction of the motherland to see.
World Renewal Day! 3.
VS Pecherin, according to NA Berdyaev, was one of the first Russian emigrants who left for the West from the yoke of the Nikolayev era.