Secular Living Room “AND THE SMOKE OF THE FATHERLAND IS SWEET AND PLEASANT TO US.”
Different attitudes towards the revolution. Dispute about the fate of Russia. The fate of the intelligentsia.

LEADING During the years of the revolution and civil war, about 3 million people went into exile, scattered throughout the world. In many ways it was the Russian intelligentsia: writers, poets, artists, actors, famous scientists. In 1917-1923, KUPRIN, BUNIN, L. ANDREEV, V. NABOKOV, M. TSVETAEVA, AVERCHENKO, TEFFY found themselves outside Russia. For them, creative life began in a new way. They wrote only about the Motherland. They say that if you keep looking at your wounds, they won't heal. The memory of their lost homeland was such an unhealing wound for them. However, not only lost, but also acquired in a new way.
In Paris, France, in the Merezhkovsky house, a literary branch of the Green Lamp salon was created, which included Berdyaev, Khodosevich, Teffi, Bunin, Balmont, Kuprin gathered there
BUNIN “We acted... on behalf of Russia: not the one that betrayed Christ for 30 pieces of silver and wallowed in abomination, but another Russia... suffering, but still not completely conquered. What happened? The great fall of Russia took place, and at the same time the fall of man in general. The fall of Russia is not justified by anything.”
LEADING Without hiding their anger and compassion, through tears of love, they looked back at the passing Russia, understanding the revolution as a discord within the human soul and their mission in protecting the moral values ​​​​developed by Russian life from the violence of a brutal crowd, the destructive elements of godlessness and social chaos.
BUNIN Every minute I think: what a strange and terrible thing our existence is - every second you hang by a thread! Here I am. Alive, healthy, and who knows what will happen to my heart in a second! And my happiness hangs by the same thread, that is, the health of all those whom I love, whom I value more than myself. What and why is all this for?
BALMONT I'm at the end of the earth. I'm far south.
In the south of different countries - in the south of the whole earth.
My dawn burns on the polar circle,
Ships don't often land in my seas.
My light is the reflection of an ice floe
Here the icy mountains are one floating temple.
But beyond the limits of dreams, my thoughts are single
Leads my spirit back to my native fields.
And no matter how many spaces - no matter what element
Neither unfolded to me, in fire or water, -
Swimming, I will shout a single cry: “RUSSIA!
Grieving, I will sing: “I love you - everywhere”!

LIVING ROOM
Romance by Vertinsky" JUNKER

I don't know why and who needs this,
Who sent these to death with an unwavering hand
It’s just so hopeless, so evil and unnecessary
They were sent to eternal rest.

Tired spectators, silently, wrapped themselves in fur coats.
And some woman with a distorted face
She kissed the dead man on his blue lips.
And she threw her wedding ring at the priest.

They threw Christmas trees at them and covered them with mud.
And they went home to talk among themselves,
That it's time to put an end to the disgrace,
That we will soon begin to starve anyway.

But no one thought to just kneel
And tell these boys that in a mediocre country
Even bright feats are only steps
Into endless abysses towards inaccessible spring. (REPEAT VERSE 1)

BUNIN And flowers, and bumblebees, and grass, and ears of corn,
And the azure, and the midday heat...
The time will come - the Lord will ask the prodigal son,
Were you happy in your earthly life?
And I’ll forget everything, I’ll only remember these
Field paths between ears and grasses.
And from sweet tears I won’t have time to answer,
Falling to the merciful knees.
LEADING Literature created in a foreign land turned out to be the guardian of the spiritual power that is necessary for the future good of the people, for our cultural Renaissance. In depth, this literature is not about the past, but about the future, because replenishes the level of spiritual spiritual values, without which neither the people nor literature can exist. And our literature will draw the energy of its revival from the feat of Russian literature abroad
Well, what about in Russia? BLOK WILL SAY: “With all your body, with all your heart, with all your consciousness - listen to the Revolution! "
Mayakovsky: “My revolution...I went to Smolny, worked whatever I had to”
LEADING These were difficult years. Bureaucrats, sycophants and drunkards raised their heads. Philistinism flourished. “The philistine life is worse than Wrangel.” And all this had to be dealt with.
READER 1 The hell of a job will be done. And it's already being done
By illuminating, we dress in poverty and nakedness.
Coal and ore mining is expanding.
And next to this, of course, there are many
A lot of different rubbish and nonsense...
A lot of different scoundrels
They walk on our land and around.
They have neither a number nor a nickname.
A whole tape of types stretches:
Fists and red tape,
Toadies, sectarians and drunkards.
They walk with their chests stuck out proudly,
In pens all over and in badges.
We will, of course, twist them all,
But it’s terribly difficult to win everyone over...
READER 2(everyman) Ordinary people were buried behind their kitchens, behind their diapers.
Don't touch us, we're chickens
We are just midges, we are waiting for food.
Close your mouth, time. We are ordinary people
You dress us, and we are already for your power.
READER 3(philistine) We are powerless to understand your enthusiasm.
What are they excited about? What are they singing about?
What kind of fruit are oranges?
Growing up in your Bolshevik paradise?
What did you know besides bread and water,
Having difficulty getting by from day to day?
Such a Fatherland such smoke
Is it really that pleasant?
Why are you going if they say, “Fight!” "
You can be torn apart by a bomb
You can die for your land,
But how to die for the common!
It’s nice for a Russian to hug a Russian,
But you have also lost the name of Russia.
What kind of Fatherland is this for those who have forgotten about the nation?
What is your nation? Comintern?
A wife, an apartment, and a current account -
This is the Fatherland, paradise!
LEADING(patriot) Listen, national drone.
Our day is good because it is difficult.
This song will be a song
Our troubles, victories and everyday life!
READER 4 I got lost a lot in different countries,
But only this winter
The warmth became clearer to me
Loves, friendships and families.
Just lying in such icy conditions,
Grinding my teeth together,
You understand, you can’t feel sorry for people
No blanket, no affection.
A land where the air is like sweet fruit drink,
You give up and speed off the wheels,
But the land with which it froze
IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO LOVE EVER!

READER 5 The clouds have gone to the fat countries.
Behind the cloud lies America.
She lay there, lapping up coffee and cocoa.
In your face, thicker than pig whims
I shout from the poor land.
I love this land. You can forget where and when
He raised bellies and crops. But the land from which we both starved,
YOU CAN NEVER FORGET.
READER 6 From battle to labor - from labor to attacks
In hunger, cold and nakedness
They kept what they had won so much,
That blood was coming out from under the nails.

I've seen places where figs and quinces
Grew without difficulty around my mouth
You treat them differently
But the land that he conquered
And nursed a half-dead one,
Where stand with a bullet, lie down with a rifle,
Where you flow like a drop with the masses,
With such land you will go to live,
TO LABOR AND TO DEATH!

M. BULGAKOV “DAYS OF THE TURBINES”. SCENE 1
CHARACTERS:
Turbin Alexey Vasilievich - artillery colonel, 30 years old.
Elena Vasilievna is his sister, 24 years old
Myshlaevsky Viktor Viktorovich - staff captain of artillery, 38 years old.
Shervinsky Leonid Yurievich-lieutenant, personal captain of the Getman
Studzinsky Aleksandrovich Bronislavovich, captain, 29 years old
Lariosik-cousin, 21 years old
Time of action - winter, 1918.
Living room. Guests and hosts are at the table.

LARIOSIC Dear Elena Vasilievna! I can’t express how good I feel with you!
ELENA Very nice.
LARIOSIC These cream curtains...Gentlemen! You relax your soul behind them and forget about all the horrors of the civil war. And our wounded souls are waiting for peace.
MYSHLAEVSKY(plays and sings Vertinsky's romance)
SHERVINSKY(enters, hands flowers to Elena, kisses her hand)
LARIOSIC(gets up with a glass of wine) Excuse me, gentlemen. I am a non-military person. Cream curtains...They separate us from the whole world. However, I am a non-military person.

ROMANCE The nightingale whistled to us all night long,
The city fell asleep and the houses fell asleep.

They drove us crazy all night long.

The garden, all washed with spring leaves,
There was water in the dark alleys.
God, how naive we were.
How young we were then!

The years have flown by, turning us gray,
Where is the purity of these living branches?
Only winter and this white snowstorm
They are reminded of them today.

At an hour when the wind is raging furiously,
With new strength I feel
White acacia fragrant clusters
Unique, like youth itself. -2 times

LARIOSIC Eh, good for you!
MYSHLAEVSKY You’re a nice guy, Lariosik, but you make your speeches like a deeply respected boot.
LARIOSIC No, don’t tell me, Viktor Viktorovich. I gave speeches more than once in the company of my late dad’s colleagues... in Zhitomir.
MYSHLAEVSKY(starts singing) Tell me. Magician, lover of the Gods.
What will happen to me in life
And soon, to the delight of our neighbors-enemies
I’ll be covered with grave earth
LARIOSIC(sings loudly; Alexey stops him. Everyone sings without words and only loudly the phrase “We will ring out a loud Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!”
SHERVINSKY Gentlemen! The health of His Grace the Hetman of All Ukraine, hurray!
Pause
STUDZINSKI Guilty. Tomorrow I’ll go fight, but I won’t drink this toast and I don’t recommend it to other officers.
SHERVINSKY Mister captain!
LARIOSIC A completely unexpected incident. Let me tell you! For the health of Elena Vasilievna!
STUDZINSKI This Hetman of yours...
ALEXEI If your hetman began to form an officer corps, there would be no petliura and spirit in Little Russia. But this is not enough. We would have swatted the Bolsheviks in Moscow like flies. They say they eat cats there. He, the bastard, would have saved Russia.
SHERVINSKY The Germans would not allow the formation of an army, they are afraid of it.
ALEXEI Not true. The Germans need to be explained that we are not dangerous to them. We lost the war. We now have something worse than war. Bolsheviks. For every 100 cadets, there are one hundred and twenty students And they hold a rifle like a shovel. Oh, if only, gentlemen, we could have foreseen earlier... In Russia, gentlemen, there are 2 forces: the Bolsheviks and us. Either we will bury them, or, rather, they will us. I drink to the meeting, gentlemen!
LARIOSIC(Crying)
MYSHLAEVSKY Why are you crying, Lariosik?
LARIOSIC I was afraid.
MYSHLAEVSKY Whom? Bolsheviks? We have them now (shoots)
ALEXEI Don't listen, gentlemen. It's my fault. Don't listen to what I said. My nerves were just upset.
STUDZINSKI We will always defend the Russian Empire!
LONG LIVE RUSSIA!
EVERYONE sings "So louder the music, play the victory"
We have won, and the enemy is running and running. Runs
SO FOR THE TSING, FOR THE MOTHERLAND, FOR THE FAITH
WE'LL ROLL THUNDER FOR HURRAY!"

LAVRENEV “THE FORTY-FIRST” SCENE FROM THE PLAY.
(Maryutka the Red Army soldier leads the captured lieutenant to headquarters).

MARYUTKA(sits leaning against the tent and writes something)
LIEUTENANT What are you writing?
MARYUTKA What's the fuss to you? (looked sideways)
LIEUTENANT Maybe I should write a letter? You dictate, I’ll write.
MARYUTKA Look, you swindler. Does this mean you should untie your hands, and you’ll slap me in the face and run? Attacked the wrong one, falcon. And I don’t need your help. I’m not writing a letter, but poetry.
LIEUTENANT Sti-hi-i? Do you write poetry?
MARYUTKA Do you think that only padekators dance, and I’m a peasant fool? No stupider than you.
LIEUTENANT I don't think you're a fool. I’m just surprised. Is now the time for poetry?
MARUSHKA Oddball! What if my soul is boiling? If I dream about how we, hungry and cold, walked across the sands. Lay everything out so that people’s chests will swell. I put all my blood into them. They just don’t want to create people. They say you need to study. Where will you find the time? I write from the heart, from simplicity.
LIEUTENANT You should have read it! Really curious. I understand poetry.
MARYUTKA You won't understand. You have lordly blood. You need to describe about flowers and a woman, but for me everything is about poor people, about the revolution.
LIEUTENANT Why don’t I understand? Maybe their content is alien to me, but it is always possible to understand a person.
MARUSHKA Well, to hell with you. Listen. Just don't laugh.
LIEUTENANT No! Honestly, I won't laugh
MARUSHKA(coughed, lowered her voice to a bass, chopped up the words, rotating her pupils)
And then it just won’t go any further, even if you crack it, fish cholera, I don’t know how to insert camels?
LIEUTENANT Yes, great! It's obvious that it's from the heart. Don't be offended, but the poems are very bad. Unprocessed, unskilled.
MARUSHKA(sad) I told you they were sensitive. My whole insides cry when I talk about this. Everyone says unprocessed. How to fix them? What kind of trick? You are an intellectual. Maybe you know?
LIEUTENANT It's difficult to answer. Poems, you see, are art. And every art requires learning. Now, if, for example, an engineer does not know all the rules for building a bridge, then he will either not build it at all, or will build it unsuitable.
MARUSHKA So that's the bridge. For it to work, arithmetic needs to happen, there are various engineering tricks. And I have poems in my heart from the cradle. Let's say talent.
LIEUTENANT So what? Talent is developed by learning.
MARUSHKA Well, once we finish fighting, I’ll definitely go to school to learn how to write poetry! They have eaten up my life, these same poems. This is how the soul burns, so that they write it down in the book and put their signature everywhere” Poem by Maria Bosova
Listen, cadet. Do your hands hurt?
LIEUTENANT Not really, just numb!
MARUSHKA That's it, you swear to me that you don't want to run away. I'll untie you.
LIEUTENANT Where should I run? To the sands? So that the jackals will kill you? I'm not my own enemy.
MARUSHKA No, you swear. Speak after me: I swear to the poor proletariat, who is fighting for their rights, before the Red Army woman Maria Bosova, that I do not want to run away.
LIEUTENANT Repeated.
MARUSHKA(unties) Look, you’ll run away, you’ll be the last scoundrel.
LIEUTENANT I'll tell you what. I'm sick and tired of all this nonsense. So many years of bloodshed and malice. I didn't become a soldier from the cradle. Before the German war I was a student. I had a lot of books. You sit down, it happened. In a chair with a book, the soul blooms, you can even hear the flowers rustling, like almonds in the spring. Do you understand?
MARUSHKA Mmm.
LIEUTENANT One fateful day it burst and scattered. One word - war. And he left all sincerely then.
MARUSHKA Something is not clear to me.
LIEUTENANT You can not understand. This burden has never hung on you. Name, family honor, duty. We value this. The revolution has come. Believed in her as in a bride. And she... During my time as an officer, I never laid a finger on a single soldier, but deserters caught me at the station, tore off my shoulder straps, spat in my face, and smeared me with toilet slurry. For what? He ran. Again he fought for his trampled homeland, for his dishonored shoulder straps. He fought and saw that his homeland was such a wasteland, like the revolution. They both love blood. But it’s not worth fighting for shoulder straps (jumped up) To hell! I don’t want any truth other than my own. Have your Bolsheviks discovered the truth? Enough! I'm out of this! I don't want to get dirty anymore.
MARUSHKA Celandine? Beloruchka? Let others dig through the shit for your mercy?
LIEUTENANT Yes, let it be. Let be. Damn it. Others who like it. I don't want the truth anymore. I want peace.
MARUSHKA I feel ashamed that I got involved with someone like that. You're a slug, you lousy woodlouse. Others are plowing up the ground for new land, and you? Oh, you son of a bitch!
LIEUTENANT(pursed lips) Don't you dare swear. Don’t forget, you... boorish!
MARUSHKA(Hit on the cheek)
LIEUTENANT(recoiled, clenched his fists) Your happiness is that you are a woman. I hate... Rubbish! (went into the tent)
MARUSHKA Look, what a nervous gentleman! Oh, fish cholera!

Words of the poem by G.R. Derzhavin, in which the lyrical hero, listening to the sounds of the harp, indulges in memories of his native Kazan, will eventually become a catchphrase. What lies behind the bright image? Smoke that hides the true outlines of objects and clouds people’s faces, constricts breathing and corrodes the eyes. But he, too, a symbol of his homeland, instills joy in the soul of a weary traveler, because it is in the love of his father’s tombs that the human heart “finds food.”

That is why it seems by no means accidental that the monastery, founded in the 13th century by the disciple Anthony in 15 fields from Tikhvin, received the name “Ontonia Monastery on Dymekh”, and Anthony himself began to be called Dymsky: indeed, the history of the monastery itself and the memory of its reverend founder as if shrouded in a foggy veil and haze of oblivion, the evidence of his Life was considered unreliable for a long time, and Anthony himself was considered an almost mythical, legendary person. And despite this, already in the mid-1990s, after the installation of a worship cross in the waters of Lake Dymskoye opposite the place where, according to legend, the monk prayed, the memory of the ascetic of bygone times began to be revived in the hearts of the surrounding residents, and the path to the waters of the saint The lake widened day by day.

“Devoting myself entirely to God”

The historical Anthony was born in 1206 in Veliky Novgorod. The only thing that is known about Anthony’s parents (the saint’s secular name, presumably, has not been preserved) from the Life is that they were pious Christians and raised their son “with good discipline,” that is, literally the way Sylvester would advise to do it, author of the famous "Domostroy". Anthony spent his youth in Novgorod, diligently visiting churches and moving away from the noisy companies of his peers. During the service, the young parishioner stood aside in one of the chapels, avoiding conversations even with pious prayer books: a conversation with God did not require witnesses, and in the soul of the young man there was no room for everyday chaff.

This inner youthful concentration on prayer, this self-sufficiency, which does not feel awkward from its solitude, predicts the ease with which Anthony later decided to leave a warm place within the walls of the monastery of tonsure, if circumstances required it of him. Here, perhaps, is the key to explaining the nature of the conflict that later arose between Anthony and the brethren of his native monastery: the monk’s internal freedom and emotional isolation aroused hostile feelings and set the smaller brethren against him.

One day, having heard the words of the Gospel during a service about the need to take up the cross and follow Christ, Anthony leaves the world and becomes a monk in the Khutyn monastery, taking monastic vows from the hands of the famous abbot and founder of this monastery, Varlaam. The Life does not indicate the age of Anthony at that moment, however, since the hagiograph does not indicate any obstacles that could delay parting with the world, and at the same time does not focus on the youth of the ascetic, it can be assumed that Anthony was about 20 years old, that is this happened around 1226.

About ten years of Anthony's monastic life passed under the watchful patronage of the Monk Varlaam. During these years, the spiritual mind of the young monk grew, matured and became stronger: “From then on, Anthony betrayed everything to God, obeying his mentor Varlaam in everything, and thought he was doing more than anyone else in that monastery.” All this time, says the Life, the monk “with care and humility in simplicity of heart” went through monastic services, without abandoning the cell and cathedral prayer rules.

Constantinople

Anthony's ten years in the Khutyn monastery ended... with the delegation of the monk to Constantinople

Anthony’s ten years in the Khutyn monastery ended with the saint’s delegation in 1238 to Constantinople “for the sake of church wines.” This honorable business trip of the monk was, on the one hand, a sign of high appreciation by the clergy (primarily Varlaam) of his monastic virtue, intelligence, and diplomatic abilities, on the other hand, a difficult test associated with many dangers and hardships. Accompanying his beloved student on the road, Varlaam strengthens his spirit, promising to prayerfully support him throughout his journey. The abbot does not hide that the journey will be long and grueling: “May God arrange your path, even if this path is difficult and sorrowful for you, but behold, through narrow and sorrowful gates it is fitting for us to enter the Kingdom of God.” Anthony himself strengthens himself with his trust in, who is strong to protect him from “men of blood”, usually attacking merchant and pilgrim caravans marching along the path “from the Varangians to the Greeks”: “Reverend Anthony, putting all this in his heart, makes it convenient to accept a new feat appearing obediently, having the medicine against all confusion in the words of Christ the Savior in the Gospel, saying: “Do not be afraid of those who kill the body and then are unable to do anything.”

Anthony spent about five years away from his native monastery, returning back only in 1243. In Constantinople, Anthony is granted an audience with the patriarch and receives instructions on how “in this multi-rebellious world it is appropriate to steer the ship of temporary life” and in all misadventures “to be complacent with meekness and humility.” The monk, perhaps, could not even imagine how quickly the spiritual covenants of the patriarch would become relevant to him.

“The monastery betrayed him into his hands”

On November 6, at the hour when the dying abbot Varlaam gathered his disciples around him to announce to them his will about the successor who should take the abbot’s staff in his hands after his death, Anthony walked the last miles of his many-day journey. Hail, snow, bare sand and the spirit of storms greeted the monk, who had matured in worthwhile processions, on the outskirts of his native Novgorod. How different it was from what he had seen for the past five years under the hot sky of Byzantium! More than one gray hair was silvered with a moonlit shine in his hair and thick beard. Since he, blessed by the hand of the Khutyn elder, set off in the midday direction, more than once he had the opportunity to look into the eyes of death, into the eyes of murderers who knew no remorse and the pangs of repentance...

Varlaam's will was expressed clearly: Anthony should be the abbot, and he is about to knock on the gates of the monastery

Varlaam’s will was expressed in an extremely clear, even ultimatum form: the abbot should be Anthony, who in these seconds, as Varlaam revealed to the amazed listeners, who, perhaps, were no longer looking forward to meeting with the monk who left the monastery many years ago, enters the Holy Gates of the Transfiguration Monastery . By the fact that the continuation of this story was by no means complacent and Varlaam’s decision in fact sowed discord among the brethren, one can judge how unpleasant a surprise the abbot’s news of an imminent meeting with the one who had been cast off in the struggle for power over the house of the All-Merciful Savior was for some of them Anthony. Deathly silence hung in the cell of the dying old man, but it echoed in the hearts of those present with an even more deafening ringing when Anthony’s almost forgotten voice was heard outside the door: “Through the prayers of the saints our fathers...” “Amen,” responded Varlaam, and he crossed the threshold, shaking off frosty dust from his mantle, a 37-year-old priest. Varlaam, in the presence of Anthony, repeated his last will, arguing his choice by the fact that Anthony was his “peer,” and this despite the fact that, according to the most conservative calculations, he was forty years younger than his spiritual father and mentor!

Even if Varlaam uses the word “peer” in the meaning of “equal,” “close in spirit,” the obvious discrepancy between the context and the direct meaning of the word makes the abbot’s statement paradoxical: Anthony, Varlaam claims, being several decades younger than me, has achieved spiritual prudence equal to me.

At the heart of the conflict between Anthony and the inhabitants of the Khutyn monastery, which will develop in full a little later, lies, apparently, ordinary human hostility towards the favorite favored by the abbot: a monk who spent five years, albeit obeying the will of the abbot, far from the monastery, not knowing its current adversities and shortcomings, should not take the place of abbot...

In all likelihood, this decision of Varlaam seemed unfair to many, but no one dared to argue with the abbot directly during his lifetime. Moreover, Varlaam also foresees the doubts that should have arisen in Anthony himself, and addresses him in the presence of a council of monastery elders with the following mysterious phrase: “Before his monastery was in the hands, it reads like this: “ Your former thoughts were about this holy place ”».

A ray of light on the mysterious words of Varlaam is shed by the inscription on the shrine of one of his closest students and followers - the Venerable Xenophon of Robei, according to which Xenophon himself and his friend Anthony of Dymsky, while asceticizing in the Lissitzky monastery, once saw pillars of light and “smoke” in a place nicknamed Khutyn gloomy". The monks, the inscription says, together with their spiritual father Varlaam, went towards the dense forest, where the light so clearly fought with the darkness, as if wanting to take a direct part in this metaphysical confrontation between good and evil, and there Xenophon and Varlaam began to work on the founding of a new monastery. The fact that Anthony, according to the chronology of his Life, could not have participated in the founding of the Khutyn Monastery (the monk was born 15 years later) is clear, but the question is how this legend, reflected in two Lives at once, could have arisen. Was Xenophon a friend of Anthony and did he share with him his memories of the signs that preceded the founding of the Khutyn monastery? One way or another, Varlaam was convinced that Anthony was connected to the Khutyn monastery by some kind of providential connection and was more worthy than others to take care of its well-being.

Dymsky ascetic

Anthony's abbess in the Khutyn monastery, due to the disturbances that arose inside the monastery, lasted less than a year, during which the abbot managed, however, to complete the construction of the Transfiguration Cathedral in stone, since the work begun by Varlaam was cut short by his death in the middle of the journey: the cathedral was built “to the heights of Prague” , that is, only to the top of the doorway. Having completed the construction of the stone cathedral, Anthony considered it best to retire. And here the patriarch’s instructions on keeping the ship, rocked by demonic machinations, afloat could not have been more useful to him, and the axiom of venerable holiness - not every abbot experienced the hardships of a long journey, but everyone experienced the desert temptations of lonely prayer - suggested the trajectory of the future. The saint's soul longed for achievement.

Having left everything in the monastery - books, treasury, utensils, vestments, which could be useful later, when a new monastery is built (just think - a gain!) - Anthony was alone, without companions and spiritual friends (the principle of “walk the unknown road yourself, and then others will pass along it” became central in his biography) went to the northeast, went around the ancient Tikhvin, walked another 15 miles and finally stopped in the area of ​​​​the town later called Dymi, near the shore of Lake Dymskoye, not far from the mouth of the stream flowing into it Black Haze. Then, in the middle of the 13th century, this area was deserted, but over many subsequent centuries, the Antonevsky churchyard and its parish church of St. Nicholas were adjacent to the monastery and its churches of Anthony the Great and the Nativity of John the Baptist. However, after one of the devastations of the monastery, both churches were united: St. Anthony's throne was located on the first floor, Nikolsky was located higher - on the second. One of the miracles of the Life of Anthony describes the appearance in a dream of a Tikhvin merchant of an icon of the Mother of God with St. Anthony and St. Nicholas standing before her. Through the prayers of the patron saints of the Dymskaya monastery, the sufferer was healed of his illness.

Anthony placed an iron cap on the head, which he did not part with until the end of his days.

How was Anthony’s life on the shores of Lake Dymskoye? According to the testimony of the Life, the monk came to Dymi even before he turned 40 years old. Here the monk excavated a cave, in which he lived for the first time, imitating, perhaps, another famous Anthony in the history of Russian monasticism - the venerable founder of the Pechersk Monastery. Later, however, Anthony emerged from the ground, building himself a cell “for bodily rest.” The ascetic alternated daytime labors cultivating fields with night prayers, and Anthony placed an iron cap on his head, which he apparently did not part with until the end of his days. As you know, you cannot come with your own charter only to someone else’s monastery (and Anthony himself learned this from his own bitter experience, although the Khutyn monastery was not a stranger to him in the full sense of the word), but here Anthony was already building his own monastery, in which the charter was determined by his will.

This will, however, turned out to be very attractive for those monks who came to Anthony, as the Life testifies, from other monasteries, despite the fact that traditionally the monasteries were replenished mainly from the laity, who, having heard about the feat of the saint, left everyday life and came to the ascetic in search of spiritual guidance. What could attract ordinary monks to the old man who settled in the impenetrable forests of the Obonezh Pyatina? What kind of spiritual deficiency did the Dymsky prayer book manage to fill? Probably, Anthony attracted other monks with his emphasized asceticism.

The monk built his monastery far from the urban centers of civilization - and this was an innovation for monasticism of that time: it is widely known that the monasteries of the pre-Mongol and early Mongol times were urban or at least suburban. Anthony practiced wearing chains, direct asceticism, and was a supporter and perhaps even an ideologist of “cruel living.” It was not for nothing that he was later called one of the first Russian hesychasts. The monk more than once retired to an island on Lake Dymskoye, where he spent time in contemplation and prayer. In addition, Anthony became famous as a disciple of the Monk Varlaam, whose name became a household name already during the life of the ascetic himself: many spiritually gifted chicks flew from his nest.

Through the veil of years

The Dymskaya monastery was completely settled during the life of its founder and after his death in 1273 continued its existence throughout the centuries of Russian history. This centuries-old path of the Anthony Monastery was reflected with zealous diligence in the Life of its founder by the hagiographer. Thus, the birth of the monk occurs during the reign of Mstislav Udatny in Novgorod, the blessed letter for the establishment of the monastery is presented to Anthony by Mstislav's grandson Alexander Nevsky, whom the monk met probably at the funeral of his teacher Varlaam, and the first discovery of his relics occurs during the reign of Demetrius Donskoy, It was then that Anthony’s local canonization took place; perhaps the first life was created. Describing the tragic events of the Time of Troubles, the hagiographer bitterly complains about the deposition of Vasily Shuisky by seditionists, which led to disastrous anarchy and brought countless troubles to the inhabitants of the Muscovite kingdom: “It happened that this second holy monastery was embittered in the time of troubles in Russia... when it was quickly deposed by sedition Vasily Ioannovich, the Swedes, having captured Novgorod, plundered and devastated many monasteries and churches.”

The evidence of Anthony's Life is supplemented by historical documents. Thus, the scribe book of the Obonezh Pyatina of 1496 tells about the “Ontonyevsky graveyard in the Dymsky Grand Duke of the village”, the refusal book of 1573 already mentions the peasants of the Dymsky monastery, and the scribe book of the clerk Semyon Kuzmin for 1583 talks about the graveyard with the wooden church of St. Anthony and the refectory the Church of John the Baptist, thirteen cells and a wooden fence, behind which there were a stable and a cowshed.

The monastery suffered devastation in 1408, during the campaign of Edygei, when many other monasteries of the Moscow kingdom suffered. In those days when the Monk Nikon of Radonezh, together with the Trinity brethren, took refuge in the dense Yaroslavl forests, the monks of the Anthony monastery saved the monastery’s shrines in the waters of Lake Dymskoye, plunging to its bottom the famous iron cap, which the monk had once consecrated with his feat. During the Time of Troubles, the well-maintained Dymsky Monastery sheltered within its walls the monks of the Valaam Monastery, expelled from the place of their feat by heterodox invaders.

In the middle of the 17th century, stone construction of the monastery churches began. The year 1764, tragic in the history of Russian monasticism in modern times, when a parish community was established on the site of the monastery, briefly interrupted the course of monastic achievement within the walls of the ancient monastery: already at the end of the same century the monastery was resumed. Throughout the 19th century, the monastery was visited by crowds of pilgrims; in 1864 alone there were more than 25 thousand of them...

Could a monastery, remote from big cities, for so many centuries, a monastery associated with the veneration of a mythical person and a legendary character, as it was believed in scientific literature quite recently, flourish, be renewed every time after the next historical blow and attract crowds of pilgrims from all of Rus'? It seems the answer is obvious.

The image of St. Anthony is clearly depicted in the smoky sky above the contours of the monastery buildings, because it was his fatherly intercession that made this centuries-old prayerful standing of his monastery possible. So the smoke that shrouded the “Ontonian churchyard” and the temple buildings of the ancient monastery gradually dissipates, and the truth appears before the readers of the ancient Life in its holy simplicity.

And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us
From the comedy “Woe from Wit” (1824) by A. S. Griboyedov (1795-1829). Chatsky's words (act. 1, appearance 7):
I am destined to see them again! Will you get tired of living with them, and in whom you won’t find any stains? When you wander, you return home, And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us.
In his play, Griboyedov quoted a line from the poem “Harp” (1798) by Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin (1743-1816):
Good news about our side is good for us.
Fatherland and smoke is sweet and pleasant to us.
This line from Derzhavin was also quoted by the poets Konstantin Batyushkov, Pyotr Vyazemsky and others.
The very idea of ​​the sweetness of the “smoke of the fatherland” belongs to the legendary poet of Ancient Greece Homer (IX century BC), who in his poem “Odyssey” (canto 1, lines 56-58) says that Odysseus was ready to die , just to “see at least the smoke rising from the native shores in the distance” (we are talking about the smoke of the hearths of the traveler’s native Ithaca).
Later, the same idea was repeated by the Roman poet Ovid (Publius Ovid Naso, 43 BC - 18 AD) in his “Pontic Epistles”. Being exiled to the Black Sea coast (in Greek - Pontus), he dreamed of seeing “the smoke of the native hearth.” For “the native land attracts a person to itself, captivating him with some inexpressible sweetness and does not allow him to forget about itself.”
Apparently, on the basis of this verse of Ovid, the famous Roman proverb arose: Dulcis fumus patriae (Dulcis fumus patriae) - Sweet is the smoke of the fatherland.
In Derzhavin's time this saying was widely known. For example, the title page of the magazine “Russian Museum” (1792-1794) was decorated with the Latin epigraph Dulcis fumus patriae. Obviously, Derzhavin was inspired by the lines of Homer and Ovid, whose work he knew well.
Allegorically: about love, affection for one’s fatherland, when even the smallest signs of one’s own, dear ones cause joy and tenderness.

Encyclopedic Dictionary of winged words and expressions. - M.: “Locked-Press”. Vadim Serov. 2003.

And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us

Quote from the comedy A.S. Griboyedov "Woe from Wit" (1824), no. 1, yavl. 7, words of Chatsky, who returned from his trip. Recalling old Muscovites with sarcasm, he says:

Dictionary of catch words. Plutex. 2004.

See what “And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us” in other dictionaries:

Wed. The peasant population who has the same faith in us, when they hear the puffing of our cheerful Tula fat bellies and the fatherland spreading out from them, will immediately understand who the real masters are here. Leskov. Russian democrat. 4. Wed. When you wander... ...

And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us- wing. sl. Quote from A. S. Griboedov’s comedy “Woe from Wit” (1824), no. 1, yavl. 7, words of Chatsky, who returned from his trip. Sarcastically remembering the old Muscovites, he says: I am destined to see them again! You'll get tired of living with them, and in no one... Universal additional practical explanatory dictionary by I. Mostitsky

And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us. Wed. The peasant population, who is of the same faith to us, will immediately understand who the real masters are here, as soon as they hear the panting of our cheerful Tula fat bellies and the smoke of the fatherland rising from them. Leskov... ...

A (y), prev. about smoke, in smoke; pl. smokes; m. 1. A collection of small solid particles and gaseous products released into the air during the combustion of something. A village is pouring out of the chimney. Plumes of smoke over the fire. Tobacco village. Porokhovaya village. * And the smoke of the Fatherland to us... ... encyclopedic Dictionary

SMOKE, smoke, husband. 1. units only Volatile combustion products with small flying coal particles. Smoke rose from the fire. Smoke is pouring out of the chimney. 2. Housing, separate house (source). Pay tribute or file with smoke. ❖ Smoke with a rocker (colloquial) noise, din, disorder... Ushakov's Explanatory Dictionary

smoke- Smoke with a rocker (colloquial) noise, din, disorder. There was smoke in the parliament. And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us; we easily forgive, we excuse the shortcomings of our native country, our close environment [a verse from Riboyedov’s Woe from Wit that has become a proverb,... ... Phraseological Dictionary of the Russian Language

smoke- a (y), sentence; about smoke/me, in the smoke/; pl. smokes/; m. see also. smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke, smoke 1) ... Dictionary of many expressions

Love for the native ashes, Love for the tombs of fathers. A.S. Pushkin. Rough sketches. 10. See, and the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us... Michelson's Large Explanatory and Phraseological Dictionary

Two feelings are wonderfully close to us: Love for our native ashes, Love for our fathers’ tombs. A. S. Pushkin. Rough sketches. 10. See: And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us... Michelson's Large Explanatory and Phraseological Dictionary (original spelling)

Books

• Woe from the mind. Audio performance (CDmp3), Griboyedov Alexander Sergeevich. This comedy is included in the golden fund of Russian classics. Schoolchildren still write essays on it, critics and literary scholars still argue to this day whether this satire on Moscow society contains...

Yagodinsky Victor

And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us

THE UNKNOWN! FIGHT AND SEARCH

Victor YAGODINSKY

And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us...

Homesickness. A long-debunked problem.

I don't care at all...

And all the same, everything is one.

But if a bush stands up on the road, especially rowan...

M. Tsvetaeva

Great feeling of the Motherland! A source of strength and inspiration. Unquenchable ardor of the soul. Joy and suffering. The courage and courage of those who defend the Fatherland, their home and their parents, their kingdom... This is their native language, native culture, history... Grief and melancholy of those who left their native places... .

But in this vast topic I would like to highlight one small issue, one side of love for one’s native places. Why are people drawn to their native places like a bird? Why does a person return to his father's house? Why is he looking for fellow countrymen in a foreign land? There can, of course, be many answers. I'll risk touching on the topic of memory...

A whirlwind of questions arose in me after a small plane of a local airline made an emergency landing in a field somewhere in the Kurgan region. I walked out, concerned about an unforeseen flight delay, and suddenly... I turned into a child. No, not right away. Perhaps, at first I smelled some painfully familiar steppe wind. Warm, wormwood and full of childhood. For some reason I found myself next to a horse, on a haystack. The horse is big, and the haystack is huge. It’s both creepy and joyful, and the tart taste of herbs tickles the nostrils, giving a special taste to new sensations.

Already sobered up by the first blow of smells, lying in the spiky grass, I firmly believed that I had been in childhood, about which I did not remember anything for a long time (or maybe I did not know?). The steppe was stirred by the wind, touched the deep layers of memory, and from there, as from the muddy depths of a steppe lake, bubbles of memories began to rise and burst. Then I checked them with maternity hospitals and friends. Yes, without error, everything was accurate. I accidentally found myself near the village where I was born...

My interest in this phenomenon was revived for the second time after a conversation with a Spaniard, who was taken to the USSR as a baby in 1937.

I asked him how he felt when he first visited his homeland, Spain? And he answered: the smell! More precisely, the smell. One is from the sea wind, and the other is soapy, from a marble public washing trough that stood in the depths of the Spanish courtyard.

Well, what else? I traveled to Spain in a Zhiguli car across Europe. The radio is on almost all the time. Other people's voices, music. But then, in the Pyrenees, on some turn of the mountain road, unfamiliar music suddenly became familiar, and he, like a boy on his mother’s breast, choked on tears of joy. And after that there was native Spanish music, there were songs familiar from childhood, but this feeling was never repeated.

What is this, a simple coincidence of our intimate (and very subjective) sensations?

But now I’m reading Marcel Proust: “In Search of Lost Time”: “I ate my aunt’s cookies, and my memory restored pictures of my childhood.” Hermann Hesse describes such feelings in more detail, who in his life story devotes quite a lot of space to this phenomenon: “My birth took place in the early evening on a warm July day, and the temperature of that hour is the same one that I loved and unconsciously sought all my life and the absence of which I perceived as deprivation. I have never been able to live in cold countries, and all the voluntarily undertaken wanderings of my life are directed to the south...” But still, most of the evidence is in favor of smells.

Sometimes these testimonies are firmly connected with a complex sense of beauty and closeness of native places. I. S. Turgenev: “I love these alleys, I love the delicate gray-green color and the subtle smell of the air under the arches...” And here is the famous oak planted by Ivan Sergeevich as a child in a clearing behind the old Lutovinovo house: “My beloved the oak had already become a young oak. Yesterday in the middle of the day I sat in its shade on a bench. The grass all around was so cheerful; there was a golden light on everything, strong and soft...” - Turgenev was constantly drawn to Spasskoe, from everywhere - from Moscow and Petersburg, Paris and Rome, Berlin and London, he returned again and again to where he spent most of his childhood, where he comprehended the soul of his people, absorbed their speech: “The air of the homeland has something inexplicable in it. ..” “When you are in Spassky, bow for me to the house, the garden, my young oak tree, bow to the homeland,” he bequeaths.

And A. Kuprin - “even flowers at home smell differently. Their aroma is strong, more spicy than the aroma of flowers abroad.” M. Prishvin and other writers have a lot of evidence of the connection between the feeling of homeland and nature. But what stands out - in its clarity and definiteness - is A. K. Tolstoy’s letter to his future wife Sofya Andreevna dated August 22, 1851: “I just returned from the forest, where I searched and found a lot of mushrooms. We once talked about the influence of smells , and to what extent they can remind you of what has been forgotten for many years. It seems to me that forest smells most of all have this property... Now, smelling the saffron milk cap, I saw before me, as if in lightning, my whole childhood in everyone. details until the age of seven."

For us, this evidence is especially important, since it is known that A.K. Tolstoy suffered from asthma. That is, he had a pronounced tendency to allergic reactions. Isn’t this where you get such a clear vision of the whole picture of childhood from just the smell of saffron milk?

Let us agree that all further discussions on this matter concern the purely biological side of the supposed connection between the feeling of one’s native places and their natural environment. A person may have another, second, homeland, which he loves no less than the place of his birth. For people of our time, the determining factor in the feeling of homeland is, of course, the psycho-emotional background that was formed in accordance with the social conditions of life and upbringing.

But still:

You don't remember a big country,

Which you have traveled and known,

Do you remember such a Motherland,

How you saw her as a child.

K. Simonov

So here it is. If we talk about the biochemistry of nostalgia, if we think that antigenic effects such as allergic reactions are to blame for its formation, then everything is explained quite harmoniously.

The essence of the matter is that the very first meeting of the body, for example, with the influenza virus (and in humans during epidemic years this usually occurs in infancy) produces such a strong immunological effect that the cells that form the antibodies “remember” the pattern for life mosaics of the antigenic shell of the virus that first infected the child. Subsequently, when encountering other influenza viruses, the body, along with new antibodies, continues to produce antibodies to the “example strain” of the virus.

A person carries antibodies in his blood all his life not only to viruses and bacteria, but also to any biological and chemical substances that can cause an immunological reaction. Such reactions may be allergic in nature if their occurrence is based on the introduction into the body of a foreign protein or even inorganic substances with allergenic properties.

And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us

From the comedy “Woe from Wit” (1824) A. S. Griboedova(1795-1829). Chatsky's words (act. 1, appearance 7):

I am destined to see them again!
Will you get tired of living with them, and in whom you won’t find any stains?
When you wander, you return home,
And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us.

Griboyedov in his play quoted a line from the poem “Harp” (1798) Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin(1743-1816):

Good news about our side is good for us.
Fatherland and smoke is sweet and pleasant to us.

This line from Derzhavin was also quoted by the poets Konstantin Batyushkov, Pyotr Vyazemsky and others.

The very idea of ​​the sweetness of the “smoke of the fatherland” belongs to the legendary poet of Ancient Greece Homer (9th century) Don. BC), who in his poem “Odyssey” (canto 1, lines 56-58) says that Odysseus was ready to die, just to “see even the smoke rising from his native shores in the distance” (we are talking about the smoke of his native hearths for the Ithaca traveler).

Later, the same idea was repeated by the Roman poet Ovid (Publius Ovid Naso, 43 BC - 18 AD) in his “Pontic Epistles”. Being exiled to the Black Sea coast (in Greek - Pontus), he dreamed of seeing “the smoke of the native hearth.” For “the native land attracts a person to itself, captivating him with some inexpressible sweetness and does not allow him to forget about itself.”