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

Homesickness. A long-exposed confusion.

I don't care at all...

And yet, everything is the same.

But if a bush stands on the road, especially mountain ash ...

M. Tsvetaeva

Great sense of the motherland! Source of strength and inspiration. Unquenchable ardor of the soul. Joy and suffering. The courage and courage of those who defend the Fatherland, their native home and their parents, their king ... This is their native language, native culture, history ... Grief and longing for those who left their native places ...

But I would like to highlight one small issue in this immense topic, 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 be many answers, of course. I dare to touch the topic of memory ...

A whirlwind of questions arose after a small local airline plane made an emergency landing in a field somewhere in the Kurgan region. I went out, preoccupied with an unexpected flight delay, and suddenly ... 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 the horse, on a haystack. The horse is big, and the haystack is huge. Both creepy and joyful, and the tart taste of herbs tickles in the nostrils, giving a special taste to new sensations.

Having already sobered up from the first blow of smells, lying in the spikey grass, I firmly believed that I had been in childhood, about which I had not remembered anything for a long time (or maybe I didn’t know?). The steppe was stirred by the wind, touched the deep layers of memory, and from there, as from the silty bowels of a steppe lake, bubbles-memories began to rise and burst. Then I checked them with maternity hospitals and friends. Yes, no error, everything was accurate. I happened to be near the village where I was born ...

Secondarily, my interest in this phenomenon revived 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 returned to his homeland, Spain? And he replied: the smell! Or rather, the smell. One - sea wind, and the other - soap, from a marble trough for public washing, which stood in the depths of the Spanish courtyard.

Well, what else? I went to Spain in a Zhiguli through all of Europe. The radio is on most of the time. Alien voices, music. But here 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 with tears of joy. And after was, native Spanish. music, there were songs familiar from childhood, but this feeling has not been repeated.

What is this, a simple coincidence of our intimate (and highly subjective) feelings?

But here I am reading Marcel Proust: “In Search of Lost Time”: “I ate my aunt's cookies, and my memory restored the pictures of childhood. Hermann Hesse describes such sensations in more detail, who devotes quite a lot of space to such a phenomenon in his biography: “My birth took place in the early evening on a warm July day, and the temperature of that hour is the one that I loved and unconsciously searched for all my life and the absence of which I perceived like 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 one's native places. I. S. Turgenev: “I love these alleys, I love the delicate gray-green color and the delicate smell of the air under the arches ...” And here is the famous oak planted. Ivan Sergeevich as a child in a clearing behind the old Lutovinovsky house: “My favorite oak tree has already become a young oak tree. Yesterday, in the middle of the day, I sat in his shade on a bench for more than an hour. I felt very good. All around the grass was so cheerful; a golden light lay on everything, strong and soft ... "- Turgenev was constantly drawn to Spasskoye, from everywhere - from Moscow, I. Petersburg, Paris and Rome, Berlin and London, he again and again returned to where he spent most of his childhood, where he comprehended the soul of his people, absorbed his speech: “The air of the motherland has something inexplicable in it ...” “When you are in Spassky, bow from me to the house, garden, bow to my young oak, bow to the motherland,” he bequeaths.

And y A. Kuprin - “even flowers in their homeland smell differently. Their fragrance is strong, more spicy than flowers abroad." M. Prishvin and other writers have a lot of evidence of the connection between the feeling of the motherland and nature. But the letter of A. K. Tolstoy to his future wife Sofya Andreevna dated August 22, 1851 stands apart - in its clarity and certainty: “I have just returned from the forest, where I searched and found a lot of mushrooms. We once talked about the influence, smells, and to what extent they can recall what has been forgotten for many years. It seems to me that forest smells have this property most of all ... Now, smelling the saffron milk cap, I saw in front of me, as if in lightning, all my childhood in all 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 the source of such a clear vision of the whole picture of childhood from the smell of camelina alone?

Let us agree that all further discussions on this subject concern the purely biological side of the alleged connection between the feeling of native places and their natural environment. A person can 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 the motherland is, of course, the psycho-emotional background that has been formed in accordance with the social conditions of life and upbringing.

But still:

You remember not a big country,

Which you traveled and learned

Do you remember such a Motherland,

How did you see her as a child?

K. Simonov

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

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

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

What is an allergy? This term comes from two Greek words: "alloe" - different, and "ergon" - I do. Literal translation: "I do things differently." In modern immunology, allergy refers to an altered, most often hypersensitivity to a substance. Hence the “allergen”, which refers to a substance that can cause an allergic reaction.

Science knows at least five sources of "foreign" molecules. We have already mentioned microorganisms. The second source is food (here it is, the very aunt's gingerbread, which made me remember my childhood). The third is plant pollen (this is the most common allergen). Fourth - various chemicals (industrial hazards, household chemicals, such as washing powder, hair dye and mascara). Fifth - belongs to the organism itself. This may be an embryo - a fetus that has antigens not only of the mother, but also of the father (probably heard about the Rh factor of the blood of the father and mother, the immunological differences of which lead to a serious illness of the fetus). These are cells that have become "foreign" - "freaks" that have appeared as a result of genetic abnormalities or aging.

Secular Living Room "AND THE SMOKE OF THE HOMELAND IS SWEET AND PLEASANT FOR US."
Different attitude to 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 all over 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, TEFFI found themselves outside Russia. For them, creative life began in a new way. They wrote only about the Motherland. They say that if you look at the wounds all the time, they do not heal. Such an unhealed wound for them was the memory of the lost Motherland. 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 mired 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 departing Russia, understanding the revolution as a discord inside the human soul and their mission in protecting the moral values developed by Russian life from the violence of the 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 in a second with my heart! And my happiness hangs on the same thread, that is, the health of all those whom I love, whom I value more than myself. For what and why all this?
BALMONT I'm on the edge 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,
In my seas, ships do not often get up.
My light-flare of the ice floe
Here the mountains are icy - one floating temple.
But beyond the dream, my thought is one
Leads my spirit back to my native fields.
And no matter how many spaces, no matter what element
Neither turned me around, in fire or in water, -
Swimming, I will proclaim a single cry: "RUSSIA!
Grief, I will sing: "I love you - everywhere"!

LIVING ROOM
Romance of Vertinsky" JUNKER

I don't know why and who needs it,
Who sent these them to death with an unwavering hand
Only so hopelessly, so evil and unnecessary
Lowered them into eternal rest.

Tired spectators silently wrapped themselves in fur coats.
And some woman with a distorted face
Kissed the dead man on blue lips.
And threw a wedding ring at the priest.

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

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

Bunin And flowers, and bumblebees, and grass, and ears of corn,
And azure, and 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 remember only these
Field paths between ears and grasses.
And from sweet tears I will not have time to answer,
Falling on merciful knees.
LEADING Literature created in a foreign land turned out to be the custodian of that 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. fills 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 in the feat of the literature of the Russian abroad
Well, what about in Russia? BLOCK 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, I worked what I had to"
LEADING Those 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 done
Illuminating, we dress poverty and bare.
The extraction of coal and ore is expanding.
And besides this, of course, there are many
A lot of different rubbish and nonsense ...
A lot of different bastards
Walk on our land and around.
They don't have a number or a name.
A whole tape of types stretches:
Fists and draggers,
Toadies, sectarians and drunkards.
They walk proudly puffing out their chests,
In the pens all the time and in the badges of the breastplate.
We will twist them all, of course,
But it is terribly difficult to twist everyone ...
READER 2(man in the street) The inhabitants were buried behind the kitchen, for diapers.
Don't touch us, we are chickens
We are only midges, we are waiting for feeders.
Close, time, your mouth. We are inhabitants
You dress us, and we are already for your power.
READER 3(man in the street) We are powerless to understand your enthusiasm.
What are they excited about? What are they singing about?
What are orange fruits
Grow in your Bolshevik paradise?
What did you know besides bread and water,
With difficulty breaking through from day to day?
Such a fatherland such a smoke
Is it really that pleasant?
What are you going for, 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 lost the name of Russia.
What kind of Fatherland is this for those who have forgotten about the nation?
What nation are you? Comintern?
Wife, yes apartment, yes 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 strayed a lot in different countries,
But only this winter
The warmth became clearer to me
Love, friendship and families.
Only lying in such icy conditions,
Teeth flashing together
You understand, you can not feel sorry for people
No blanket, no caresses.
Earth, where the air is like a sweet fruit drink,
Throw and rush the wheels,
But the land with which it froze together
IN THE CENTURY IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO STOP LOVE!

READER 5 The clouds have gone to fat countries.
Behind the cloud lies America.
Lying, drinking coffee, cocoa.
In your face, fatter than pig's quirks
I scream from the poor earth.
I love this land. You can forget where and when
Puzu raised and goiter. But the land with which the two starved,
NEVER FORGET.
READER 6 From combat to labor - from labor to attacks
In hunger, cold and nakedness
They kept the conquered yes so,
That blood was coming out from under the nails.

I saw places where figs with quince
Grow without difficulty at my mouth
Treat them differently
But the land that I conquered
And half-dead nursed
Where you get up with a bullet, lie down with a rifle,
Where you pour with the masses like a drop,
With such land you will go to life,
TO WORK AND TO DEATH!

M. BULGAKOV "DAYS OF THE TURBINS". SCENE 1
CHARACTERS:
Turbin Aleksey Vasilyevich - colonel of artillery, 30 years old.
Elena Vasilievna - his sister, 24 years old
Myshlaevsky Victor Viktorovich - staff captain of artillery, 38 years old.
Shervinsky Leonid Yurievich-lieutenant, personal captain of the Hetman
Studzinsky Alexandrovich Bronislavovich, captain, 29 years old
Cousin Lariosik, 21
Time of action - winter, 1918.
Living room. Guests and hosts are at the table.

LARIOSIK Dear Elena Vasilievna! I can't express how good you make me!
ELENA Very nice.
LARIOSIK Those cream curtains…Gentlemen! Behind them you rest your soul, you forget about all the horrors of the civil war. And our wounded souls are so waiting for rest.
MYSHLAEVSKY(plays and sings Vertinsky's romance)
SHERVINSKY(enters, gives flowers to Elena, kisses her hand)
LARIOSIK(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 All night the nightingale whistled to us,
The city fell asleep, and the houses fell asleep.

They drove us crazy all night long.

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

Years have flown by, making us gray-haired,
Where is the purity of these living branches?
Only winter and this white blizzard
Remind them today.

At the hour when the wind is raging furious,
With renewed vigor I feel
Fragrant bunches of white acacia
Unique as youth itself.-2 times

LARIOSIK Eh, you're good!
MYSHLAEVSKY You are a nice guy, Lariosik, but you make speeches like a highly respected boot.
LARIOSIK No, don't tell me, Viktor Viktorovich. I made speeches more than once in the company of my late dad's colleagues ... in Zhytomyr.
MYSHLAEVSKY(starts to sing) Tell me. Magician, lover of the Gods.
What will come true in my life
And soon, to the delight of neighbors-enemies
I will fill the grave with earth
LARIOSIK(sings loudly. Alexey stops him. Everyone sings without words and only loudly the phrase "We will burst out loud Hurray! Hurray! Hurray!"
SHERVINSKY Lord! The health of his lordship Hetman of all Ukraine, cheers!
Pause
STUDZINSKY Guilty. Tomorrow I will go to fight, but I will not drink this toast and I do not advise other officers.
SHERVINSKY Mister Captain!
LARIOSIK A completely unexpected incident. Let me tell! To the health of Elena Vasilievna!
STUDZINSKY This Hetman of yours...
ALEXEI If your hetman would begin 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 would have saved Russia, the bastard.
SHERVINSKY The Germans would not allow the formation of an army, they are afraid of it.
ALEXEI Not true. We need to explain to the Germans that we are not dangerous to them. We lost the war. We are now more terrible than war. Bolsheviks. For 100 junkers - one hundred and twenty students And they hold a rifle like a shovel Oh, if, gentlemen, they could foresee earlier ... In Russia, gentlemen, there are 2 forces: the Bolsheviks and we Or we will bury them, or, rather, they drink us for a meeting, gentlemen!
LARIOSIK(Crying)
MYSHLAEVSKY Why are you crying, Lariosik?
LARIOSIK I was frightened.
MYSHLAEVSKY Whom? Bolsheviks? We have them now (shoots)
ALEXEI Don't listen gentlemen. This is my fault. Don't listen to what I said. I just got on my nerves.
STUDZINSKY We will always defend the Russian Empire!
LONG LIVE RUSSIA!
EVERYONE sings "So loud music play victory
We have won, and the enemy is running, running. running,
SO FOR THE KING, FOR THE HOMELAND, FOR THE FAITH
WE'LL GET A HURRAY OF THUNDER!"

LAVRENEV "FORTY-ONE" SCENE FROM THE PERFORMANCE.
(Maryutka-Red Army soldier leads a captured lieutenant to headquarters).

MARYUTKA(sits leaning against the tent and writes something)
Lieutenant What are you writing?
MARYUTKA What's your fuss? (squinted)
Lieutenant Maybe write a letter? You dictate, I'll write.
MARYUTKA Look, you swindler. This means you untie your hands, and you me on the snout and on the run? You attacked the wrong one, falcon. And I don't need your help. I'm not writing a letter, but poetry.
Lieutenant Verses-hee-and? Do you write poetry?
MARYUTKA Do you think that only padekators dance, and I'm a peasant fool? Don't be dumber than you.
Lieutenant I don't think you are stupid. I'm just surprised. Is now the time for poetry?
MARUSHKA Freak! And if my soul boils? If I dream of meaning how we, hungry, cold, pearled on the sands. Lay out everything so that people swear in their chests. I put all my blood into them. They just don't want to spread. They say you have to study. Where will you find the time? I write from the heart, from simplicity.
Lieutenant And you would read! Really curious. I understand poetry.
MARYUTKA You won't understand. The blood in you is master. You need to describe flowers and a woman, but I have everything about poor people, about the revolution.
Lieutenant Why don't I understand? Maybe they are alien to me in content, but a person can always understand a person.
MARUSHKA Well, to hell with you. Listen, don't laugh.
Lieutenant Not! Honestly I won't laugh
MARUSHKA(coughed, lowered her voice to bass, chopped words, rolling her pupils)
And then it doesn’t climb in any way, even though you crack, fish cholera, I don’t know how to insert camels?
Lieutenant Yes, great! Apparently from the heart. Just do not be offended, but the poetry is very bad. Raw, inept.
MARUSHKA(sadly) I told you they were sensitive. I cry all over when I talk about it. That's all they say raw. And how to dress them up? What's the trick? Here you are an entillegent. Maybe you know?
Lieutenant It's hard to answer. Poems, you see, 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 he will build an unusable one.
MARUSHKA So that's the bridge. For his arithmetic, it is necessary to happen, there are various engineering tricks. And I have verses from the cradle in the middle. Let's say talent.
Lieutenant So what? Talent is developed by learning.
MARUSHKA Well, we’ll finish the war, I’ll definitely go to school to learn how to write poetry! They seized my life, these same verses. So the soul burns, so that they squeeze in the book and put down the signature everywhere "Verse of Maria Bosova"
Listen, cadet. Do your hands hurt?
Lieutenant Not really, just numb!
MARUSHKA That's what, you swear to me that you don't want to run away. I will untie you.
Lieutenant Where should I run? Into the sands? To jackals bullied? I am not my own enemy.
MARUSHKA No, you swear. Speak after me: I swear by the poor proletariat, who is fighting for their rights, before the Red Army soldier Maria Bosova, that I don’t want to run away.
Lieutenant Repeated.
MARUSHKA(unties) .Look, you will run away, you will be the last scoundrel.
Lieutenant I'll tell you what. I'm fed up with 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 many books. You sit down, you do. In an armchair with a book, the soul blooms, you can even hear how the flowers rustle, like almonds in spring. Do you understand?
MARUSHKA Mmm.
Lieutenant One fateful day it burst, scattered. One word - war. And he left sincerely then.
MARUSHKA Something is not clear to me.
Lieutenant You can not understand. Never hung on you this burden. Name, family honor, duty. We value it. The revolution has come. He believed in her as a bride. And she ... For my officership, I didn’t touch a single soldier with my finger, but deserters at the station caught me, tore off my shoulder straps, spat in my face, smeared with toilet slurry. For what? Ran. Again he fought for the trampled Motherland, for his dishonored shoulder straps. He fought and saw that the motherland was such a wasteland as the revolution. Both bloods love. And it’s not worth fighting for shoulder straps (jumped up) To hell! I don't want any truth but my own. Have your Bolsheviks discovered the truth? Enough! I'm out of this business! I don't want to get dirty anymore.
MARUSHKA Celandine? Beloruchka? Let others dig in the shit for your mercy?
Lieutenant Yes, let. Let be. Hell. Others who like it. I don't want the truth anymore. I want rest.
MARUSHKA I am ashamed that I got involved with such a person. You slug, you lousy wood lice. Others plow the ground under a new hump, and you? Oh, you son of a bitch!
Lieutenant(pursed his lips) Don't you dare swear. Do not forget you ... boorish!
MARUSHKA(hit on the cheek)
Lieutenant(recoiled, clenched his fists) Your happiness is that you are a woman. I hate... Shit! (goes to tent)
MARUSHKA Look, what a nervous master! Oh, you fish cholera!

Yagodinsky Victor

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

UNKNOWN! FIGHT AND SEARCH

Victor YAGODINSKY

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

Homesickness. A long-exposed confusion.

I don't care at all...

And yet, everything is the same.

But if a bush stands on the road, especially mountain ash ...

M. Tsvetaeva

A whirlwind of questions arose after a small local airline plane made an emergency landing in a field somewhere in the Kurgan region. I walked out, preoccupied with an unexpected flight delay, and suddenly ... 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 the horse, on a haystack. The horse is big, and the haystack is huge. Both creepy and joyful, and the tart taste of herbs tickles in the nostrils, giving a special taste to new sensations.

Secondarily, my interest in this phenomenon revived after a conversation with a Spaniard, who was taken to the USSR as a baby, in 1937.

Well, what else? I went to Spain in a Zhiguli through all of Europe. The radio is on most of the time. Alien voices, music. But here 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 with tears of joy. And after that there was, native Spanish music, there were songs familiar from childhood, but this feeling did not happen again.

What is this, a simple coincidence of our intimate (and highly subjective) feelings?

But here I am reading Marcel Proust: “In Search of Lost Time”: “I ate my aunt’s cookies, and my memory restored the pictures of my childhood. Hermann Hesse describes in more detail such sensations, who devotes quite a lot of space in his biography to such a phenomenon: “My birth took place in the early evening on a warm July day, and the temperature of that hour is the very 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 one's native places. I. S. Turgenev: "I love these alleys, I love the delicate gray-green color and the delicate 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 Lutovinovsky house: "My beloved the oak tree has already become a young oak tree. Yesterday in the middle of the day I sat in its shade on a bench for more than an hour. I felt very good. All around the grass was so cheerful; there was a golden light on everything, strong and soft ... "- Turgenev was constantly drawn to Spasskoye, from everywhere - from Moscow, I. Petersburg, Paris and Rome, Berlin and London, he again and again returned to where he spent most of his childhood, where he comprehended the soul of his people, absorbed his speech: "The air of the homeland has something inexplicable in it. .." "When you are in Spasskoye, bow from me to the house, garden, my young oak, bow to the motherland," he wills.

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 the motherland and nature. But the letter of A.K. Tolstoy to his future wife Sofya Andreevna dated August 22, 1851 stands apart - in its clarity and certainty: “I just returned from the forest, where I searched and found a lot of mushrooms. and to what extent they can remind what has been forgotten for many years... It seems to me that forest smells have this property most of all... Right now, sniffing saffron milk, I saw in front of me, as if in lightning, all my childhood in all details until the age of seven."

But still:

You remember not a big country,

Which you traveled and learned

Do you remember such a Motherland,

How did you see her as a child?

K. Simonov

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

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). The words of Chatsky (act. 1, yavl. 7):
I am destined to see them again! You will get tired of living with them, and in whom can you not find spots? 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) by Gavrila Romanovich Derzhavin (1743-1816):
We have good news about our side.
Fatherland and smoke are sweet and pleasant to us.
This Derzhavin line 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" (song 1, lines 56-58) says that Odysseus was ready to die , just to “see at least smoke rising from the native shores in the distance” (we are talking about the smoke of the hearths of Ithaca, the traveler’s native).
Later, the same idea was repeated by the Roman poet Ovid (Publius Ovid Nason, 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 domestic hearth." For "the native land attracts a person, captivating him with some inexpressible sweetness and does not allow him to forget about himself."
Apparently, on the basis of this verse by Ovid, the well-known Roman proverb arose: Dulcis fumus patriae (dulcis fumus patrie) - Sweet is the smoke of the fatherland.
In Derzhavin's time, this saying was widely known. For example, the title page of the Russian Museum magazine (1792-1794) was decorated with the Latin epigraph Dulcis fumus patriae. Obviously, Derzhavin was also 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, native cause joy, tenderness.

Encyclopedic Dictionary of winged words and expressions. - M.: "Lokid-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), d. 1, yavl. 7, the words of Chatsky, who returned from a trip. Recalling old Muscovites with sarcasm, he says:

I am destined to see them again! You will get tired of living with them, and in whom can you not find spots? When you wander, you return home, And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant to us. Griboyedov's last verse is not a completely accurate quote from a poem by G.R. Derzhavin "Harp" (1798): Good news about our side is dear to us: Fatherland and smoke are sweet and pleasant to us.

Dictionary of winged words. Plutex. 2004

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Wed The peasant population of the same faith to us, as soon as they hear the panting of our cheerful Tula fat-bellies and the fatherland spreading 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. Griboyedov’s comedy “Woe from Wit” (1824), d. 1, yavl. 7, the words of Chatsky, who returned from a trip. Remembering the old Muscovites with sarcasm, he says: I am destined to see them again by fate! You will get tired of living with them, and in whom ... Universal additional practical explanatory dictionary by I. Mostitsky

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

A (y), preposition. about the smoke, in the smoke; pl. smokes; m. 1. A set of small solid particles and gaseous products released into the air during the combustion of something l. From the chimney falls the village. Clouds of smoke over the conflagration. Tobacco village Powder village * And the smoke of the Fatherland to us ... ... encyclopedic Dictionary

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

smoke- Smoke yoke (colloquial) noise, din, disorder. There was smoke in the Parliament. And the smoke of the fatherland is sweet and pleasant for us, we easily forgive, excuse the shortcomings of our native country, our close environment [a proverbial verse from Woe from the mind of a riboyedov, ... ... Phraseological dictionary of the Russian language

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

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

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

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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 critics still argue whether this satire on Moscow society contains ...

Encyclopedic dictionary of winged words and expressions Serov Vadim Vasilyevich

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

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

From the comedy "Woe from Wit" (1824) A. S. Griboedova(1795-1829). The words of Chatsky (act. 1, yavl. 7):

I am destined to see them again!

You will get tired of living with them, and in whom can you not find spots?

When you wander, you return home,

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

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

We have good news about our side.

Fatherland and smoke are sweet and pleasant to us.

This Derzhavin line 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 c. Don. BC), who in his poem "Odyssey" (song 1, lines 56-58) says that Odysseus was ready to die, if only "to see at least smoke rising from his native shores in the distance" (we are talking about the smoke of the hearths of his native for the traveler of Ithaca).

Later, the same idea was repeated by the Roman poet Ovid (Publius Ovid Nason, 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 domestic hearth." For "the native land attracts a person, captivating him with some inexpressible sweetness and does not allow him to forget about himself."

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

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