Ivan Alekseevich Bunin
"Cursed Days"
Summary
In 1918-1920, Bunin recorded in the form of diary notes his direct observations and impressions of the events in Russia at that time. Here are some snippets:
Moscow, 1918
January 1 (old style). This cursed year is over. But what's next? Maybe something even more terrible. Probably even so...
February 5th. From the first of February they ordered to be a new style. So in their opinion already the eighteenth ...
"Oh, if only!" On Petrovka, monks break ice. Passers-by triumph, gloat: “Aha! Kicked out! Now, brother, they will force you!”
We omit the dates below. A young officer entered the tram car and, blushing, said that he "could not, unfortunately, pay for the ticket." Derman, a critic, arrived - he fled from Simferopol. There, he says, "indescribable horror", soldiers and workers "walk up to their knees in blood." Some old colonel was roasted alive in a locomotive furnace. “The time has not yet come to understand the Russian revolution impartially, objectively…” You hear this now every minute. But real impartiality will never happen anyway. And most importantly: our "partiality" will be very, very dear to the future historian. Is the "passion" only of the "revolutionary people" important? But we are not people, are we? Hell on the tram, clouds of soldiers with sacks are fleeing from Moscow, fearing that they will be sent to defend St. Petersburg from the Germans. I met a soldier boy on Povarskaya, ragged, skinny, foul and drunk to smithereens. He poked me in the chest with his muzzle and, staggering back, spat on me and said: “Despot, you son of a bitch!” On the walls of the houses, someone has pasted up posters incriminating Trotsky and Lenin in connection with the Germans, that they were bribed by the Germans. I ask Klestov: “Well, how much exactly did these bastards get?” “Don’t worry,” he replied with a vague grin, “it’s decent ...” Conversation with floor polishers:
- Well, what do you say, gentlemen, pretty?
- Yes, what do you say. Everything is bad.
“But God knows,” said the curly-haired man. — We are a dark people… What do we know? That's what will happen: they let criminals out of prisons, so they control us, but we must not let them out, but we should have shot them with a filthy gun a long time ago. The king was imprisoned, but there was no such thing under him. And now these Bolsheviks cannot be fought. The people have weakened... There are only a hundred thousand of them, and there are so many millions of us, and we can do nothing. Now if only they could open the treasury, they would give us freedom, we would drag them all to shreds from their apartments."
A conversation overheard on the phone:
“I have fifteen officers and adjutant Kaledin. What to do?
- Shoot immediately.
Again, some kind of demonstration, banners, posters, music - and some into the forest, some for firewood, in hundreds of throats: "Get up, get up, work people!". Voices uterine, primitive. The women's faces are Chuvash, Mordovian, the men's, all as if by choice, criminal, others are directly Sakhalin. The Romans branded the faces of their convicts: "Saue giget". Nothing needs to be put on these faces, and everything is visible without any stigma. Read an article by Lenin. Insignificant and fraudulent - sometimes international, sometimes "Russian national upsurge". "Congress of Soviets". Lenin's speech. Oh what an animal! I read about corpses standing at the bottom of the sea - killed, drowned officers. And here is the Musical Snuffbox. The entire Lubyanka Square glistens in the sun. Liquid mud splashes from under the wheels. And Asia, Asia - soldiers, boys, trading in gingerbread, halva, poppy tiles, cigarettes ... Soldiers and workers, now and then rattling on trucks, have triumphant faces. In P.'s kitchen there is a soldier with a fat face... He says that, of course, socialism is now impossible, but that the bourgeoisie still needs to be cut.
Odessa. 1919
April 12 (old style). It's been almost three weeks since our death. Dead, empty port, dead, filthy city-Letter from Moscow ... dated August 10 came only today. However, Russian mail ended a long time ago, back in the summer of 1917: since the very first time, in a European way, the "Minister of Posts and Telegraphs ..." appeared in our country. At the same time, the "Minister of Labor" appeared for the first time - and then all of Russia stopped working. Yes, and the Satan of Cain's malice, bloodthirstiness and the wildest arbitrariness breathed on Russia precisely in those days when brotherhood, equality and freedom were proclaimed. Then immediately came a frenzy, acute insanity. Everyone was yelling at each other for the slightest contradiction: "I'll arrest you, you son of a bitch!"
I often recall the indignation with which my supposedly all-black images of the Russian people were greeted. …And who? Those who are fed are drunk on the very literature that for a hundred years has dishonored literally all classes, that is, the “priest”, the “philistine”, the tradesman, the official, the policeman, the landowner, the prosperous peasant - in a word, everything and everyone, with the exception of some then the "people" - horseless, of course - and tramps.
Now all the houses are dark, the whole city is in darkness, except for those places where these robbers' dens - there are blazing chandeliers, balalaikas are heard, walls hung with black banners, on which are white skulls with inscriptions: "Death, death to the bourgeois!"
He speaks, screams, stuttering, with saliva in his mouth, his eyes seem especially furious through the crookedly hanging pince-nez. The tie came out high from behind on a dirty paper collar, the waistcoat was utterly soiled, there was dandruff on the shoulders of the short jacket, greasy, liquid hair was disheveled ... justice!"
There are two types of people. Russia dominates in one, Chud in the other. But in both there is a terrible changeability of moods, appearances, "shakyness", as they used to say in the old days. The people themselves said to themselves: “from us, as from a tree, is both a club and an icon,” depending on the circumstances, on who processes this tree: Sergius of Radonezh or Emelka Pugachev.
“From victory to victory - new successes of the valiant Red Army. Execution of 26 Black Hundreds in Odessa…”
I heard that we will also have this wild robbery, which is already going on in Kyiv - the “collection” of clothes and shoes ... But it’s creepy even during the day. The whole huge city does not live, sits at home, goes out a little. The city feels as if conquered by some special people, who seem much more terrible than, I think, our Pechenegs seemed to our ancestors. And the conqueror staggers, trades from stalls, spits seeds, "covers obscenities." Along Deribasovskaya, either a huge crowd is moving, accompanying for entertainment the coffin of some swindler, who is certainly given out as a "fallen fighter" (lies in a red coffin ...), or black jackets of sailors playing the accordions, dancing and screaming: "Oh, apple, where are you going !"
In general, as soon as the city becomes "red", the crowd that fills the streets immediately changes dramatically. A certain selection of faces is being made… First of all, there is no ordinary, simplicity on these faces. All of them are almost entirely sharply repulsive, frightening with evil stupidity, some kind of gloomy lackey challenge to everything and everyone.
I saw the Field of Mars, on which they had just performed, as a kind of traditional sacrifice of the revolution, the comedy of the funeral of the heroes who allegedly fell for freedom. What needs, that it was, in fact, a mockery of the dead, that they were deprived of an honest Christian burial, boarded up in red coffins for some reason and unnaturally buried in the very center of the city of the living.
From Izvestia (wonderful Russian): “The peasants say, give us a commune, if only save us from the Cadets…”
The caption under the poster: "Don't stare, Denikin, on a foreign land!"
By the way, about the Odessa emergency. There is now a new way to shoot - over the closet cup.
"Warning" in the newspapers: "Due to the complete depletion of fuel, electricity will soon be out." So, in one month everything was processed: no factories, no railways, no trams, no water, no bread, no clothes - nothing!
Late yesterday evening, together with the "commissar" of our house, they came to measure the length, width and height of all our rooms "for the purpose of compaction by the proletariat."
Why a commissioner, why a tribunal and not just a court? All because only under the protection of such sacred revolutionary words can one so boldly walk knee-deep in blood ...
In the Red Army, the main thing is promiscuity. A cigarette is in his teeth, his eyes are cloudy, insolent, a cap is on the back of his head, “hair” falls on his forehead. Dressed in some kind of team rags. Sentinels sit at the entrances of requisitioned houses in armchairs in the most broken poses. Sometimes just a tramp sits, a browning on his belt, a German cleaver hangs from one side, and a dagger from the other.
Calls in a purely Russian spirit: “Forward, relatives, do not count the corpses!”
R. S. Here my Odessa notes break off. The sheets following these I buried so well in one place in the ground that before fleeing from Odessa, at the end of January 1920, I could not find them in any way.
Some notes of Bunin in the form of diary notes about personal observations during the civil war in Russia.
Moscow, 1918.
In a tram car, a young officer cannot pay for a ticket. The critic Derman, who fled from Simferopol, talks about the horror that is happening there. Workers and soldiers are knee-deep in blood. One old colonel was roasted alive in a locomotive furnace. It is heard everywhere that when considering the Russian revolution one does not need to be objective and impartial. In the hell tram, many soldiers with bags run away from Moscow, fearing that they will be sent to protect St. Petersburg from the Germans.
On Povarskaya there is a boy-soldier, skinny, foul, ragged, drunk to smithereens. He called me a son of a bitch. Posters are pasted on the walls of the houses, which convict Lenin and Trotsky of bribery, in ties with the Germans. Klestov said that these bastards received quite a decent amount of money.
In a conversation with the floor polishers, they said that things were very bad. That they are run by prison criminals. That they should not have been released, but shot. That this was not the case under the king. That because of the weakness of the people, the Bolsheviks now cannot be fought.
Demonstrations, music, banners, posters are everywhere. Everywhere you can hear primitive, uterine voices: “Get up, working people!”. Women have Mordovian, Chuvash faces, men have Sakhalin, criminal faces. The Romans put marks on the faces of convicts. On these faces you can see everything without any stigma
Odessa. 1919
It's been three weeks since our death. The city and the port are all filthy, dead, empty. All houses are dark, the whole city is in darkness, except for the robbers' dens. Balalaikas are heard there, chandeliers are blazing. The walls there are hung with black banners with white skulls and the inscriptions "Death to the bourgeoisie!"
I heard that, as in Kyiv, there will be a wild robbery - a "collection" of shoes and clothes. Creepy even in the daytime. The entire huge city is practically non-existent. Everyone stays at home, rarely going out. The city feels completely conquered by some special people, who seem to be more terrible than the Pechenegs. At the same time, the conqueror staggers, spits seeds, trades from stalls, “covers obscenities”. There are crowds accompanying for entertainment the red coffin of another crook, posed as a "fallen fighter". Everywhere there are black jackets of sailors screaming, dancing and playing the accordion.
On the Champ de Mars, the traditional sacrifice of the revolution is performed. This is a comedy of funerals, as if the heroes who died for freedom. This is a clear mockery of the dead. They were deprived of a Christian honest burial, boarded up in red coffins and buried in the center of the city of the living.
Late last night, people, together with the "commissar" of the house, arrived to measure the dimensions of our rooms for the purpose of densification by the proletariat. The main criterion for the Red Army is promiscuity. The eyes are impudent, cloudy, in the teeth there is a cigarette, a cap on the back of the head, dressed in all sorts of team rags. Near the entrances of the requisitioned houses, sentries sit in all sorts of broken poses. There are just tramps with browning on their belts, on the sides with a dagger and a German cleaver. Everywhere calls in the true Russian spirit: "Forward, not counting the corpses!".
January 29, 2015Reading “Cursed Days” (Bunin, a summary follows below), you involuntarily catch yourself thinking that in Russia one “cursed days” is being replaced by endless new ones, no less “cursed” ... Outwardly, they seem to be different, but their essence remains the former - destruction, desecration, outrage, endless cynicism and hypocrisy, which do not kill, because death is not the worst outcome in this case, but cripple the soul, turning life into a slow death without values, without feelings, with only immense emptiness. It becomes scary when you assume that something like this happens in the soul of one person. And if we imagine that the “virus” multiplies and spreads, infecting millions of souls, destroying all the best and most valuable in the whole nation for decades? Creepy.
Moscow, 1918
From January 1918 to January 1920, the great Russian writer Ivan Alekseevich Bunin ("Cursed Days") recorded in the form of a diary - living notes of a contemporary - everything that happened before his eyes in post-revolutionary Russia, everything that he felt, experienced that he suffered and with which he never parted until the end of his days - an incredible pain for his homeland.
The initial entry was made on January 1, 1918. One “damned” year is behind us, but there is no joy, because it is impossible to imagine what awaits Russia in the future. There is no optimism, and even any slightest hope of a return to the “old order” or quick changes for the better is fading with each new day. In a conversation with floor polishers, the writer cites the words of one “curly-haired” that today only God knows what will happen to all of us ... After all, criminals and madmen were released from prisons, from psychiatric hospitals, who smelled the smell of blood, endless power and impunity with their animals inside. “They put the tsar down,” they attacked the throne, and now they rule a huge people and rampage in the vast expanses of Russia: in Simferopol, they say, soldiers and workers punish everyone indiscriminately, “they walk up to their knees in blood.” And the worst thing is that there are only a hundred thousand of them, and there are millions of people, and they can’t do anything ...
Impartiality
We continue the summary (“Cursed Days”, Bunin I.A.). More than once, the public both in Russia and in Europe accused the writer of the subjectivity of his judgments about those events, declaring that only time can be impartial and objective in assessing the Russian revolution. Bunin answered all these attacks unequivocally - there is no impartiality in its direct sense and never will be, and his “partiality”, which he suffered in those terrible years, is the most impartiality.
He has every right to hate, and to acrimony, and to anger, and to condemnation. It is very easy to be “tolerant” when you watch what is happening from a far corner and know that no one and nothing can destroy you or, even worse, destroy your dignity, cripple your soul beyond recognition ... And when you find yourself in the thick of those very terrible events when you leave the house and don’t know if you will return alive, when you are evicted from your own apartment, when you are hungry, when you are given “an eighth of crackers”, “you chew them - the stink is hellish, your soul burns”, when the most unbearable physical suffering does not go to what a comparison with mental turmoil and incessant, debilitating, taking everything out without a trace of pain from the fact that “our children, grandchildren will not even be able to imagine the country, empire, Russia in which we once (that is, yesterday) lived , which we did not appreciate, did not understand - all this power, complexity, wealth, happiness ... ", then "passion" cannot but be, and it becomes the true measure of good and evil.
Related videos
Feelings and emotions
Yes, Bunin's "Cursed Days" in summary is also filled with devastation, depression and intolerance. But at the same time, the dark colors prevailing in the description of people of those years, events and one’s own internal state can and should be perceived not with a “minus” sign, but with a “plus” sign. A black and white picture, devoid of bright, saturated colors, is more emotional and at the same time deeper and thinner. The black ink of hatred for the Russian revolution and the Bolsheviks against the background of white sleet, “high-school girls plastered with it are walking - beauty and joy” - this is that painfully beautiful contrast that simultaneously conveys disgust, fear, and real, incomparable love for the Fatherland , and the belief that sooner or later the “holy man”, “builder, high fortress” will overcome that very “buoy” and “destroyer” in the soul of a Russian person.
Contemporaries
The book "Cursed Days" (Bunin Ivan) is filled, and even overflowing, with the author's statements about his contemporaries: Blok, Gorky, Gimmer-Sukhanov, Mayakovsky, Bryusov, Tikhonov ... Judgments are mostly unkind, caustic. I.A. could not Bunin to understand, accept and forgive their "slurping" before the new authorities. What kind of business can there be between an honest, intelligent person and the Bolsheviks?
What are the relations between the Bolsheviks and this whole company - Tikhonov, Gorky, Gimmer-Sukhanov? On the one hand, they “fight” with them, openly call them a “company of adventurers”, which, for the sake of power, cynically hiding behind the “interests of the Russian proletariat”, betrays the Motherland and “outrages on the vacant throne of the Romanovs.” And on the other? And on the other hand, they live “like at home” in the “National Hotel” requisitioned by the Soviets, on the walls there are portraits of Trotsky and Lenin, and below there is a guard of soldiers and a Bolshevik “commandant” issuing passes.
Bryusov, Blok, Mayakovsky, who openly joined the Bolsheviks, and, according to the author, are stupid people at all. With equal zeal they extolled both autocracy and Bolshevism. Their works are "simple", quite "fence literature". But most of all, it is depressing that this “fence” is becoming the blood relatives of almost all Russian literature, almost all of Russia is protected by it. One thing worries - will it ever be possible to get out from under this fence? The latter, Mayakovsky, cannot even behave decently, all the time one has to “show off”, as if “boorish independence” and “stupid directness of judgments” are indispensable “attributes” of talent.
Lenin
We continue the summary - “Cursed Days”, Bunin Ivan Alekseevich. The image of Lenin is saturated with special hatred in the work. The author does not skimp on sharply negative epithets addressed to the “Bolshevik leader” - “insignificant”, “fraudulent”, “Oh, what an animal it is!” ... It was said more than once, and leaflets were posted around the city that Lenin and Trotsky were ordinary “ scoundrels”, traitors bribed by the Germans. But Bunin does not believe in these rumors too much. He sees in them "fanatics" who piously believe in a "global fire", and this is much worse, since fanaticism is a frenzy, an obsession that erases the boundaries of reason and puts on a pedestal only the object of its adoration, which means terror and the unconditional destruction of all dissenters. The traitor Judas calms down after receiving the “deserved thirty pieces of silver”, and the fanatic goes to the end. There was plenty of evidence for this: Russia was in constant "heating", terror did not stop, civil war, blood and violence were welcomed, since they were considered the only possible means to achieve the "great goal". Lenin himself was afraid of everything “like fire”, everywhere he “imagined conspiracies”, “trembled” for his power and life, because he did not expect and still could not fully believe in victory in October.
Russian revolution
"Cursed Days", Bunin - the analysis of the work does not end there. The author also reflects a lot on the essence of the Russian revolution, which is inextricably linked with the soul and character of the Russian people, "after all, truly God and the devil are constantly replaced in Russia." On the one hand, since ancient times, the Russians have been famous for “robbers” of various “brands” - “rods, Murom, Saratov, yarygs, runners, rebels against everyone and everything, sowers of all sorts of quarrels, lies and unrealizable hopes.” On the other hand, there was a "holy man", and a plowman, and a worker, and a builder. Either there was an “incessant struggle” with the brawlers and destroyers, or there was an amazing admiration for “any quarrel, sedition, bloody disorder and absurdity”, which in an unexpected way were equated with “great grace, novelty and originality of future forms”.
Russian bacchanalia
What was the reason for such a blatant absurdity? Based on the works of Kostomarov, Solovyov about the Time of Troubles, on the reflections of F. M. Dostoevsky, I.A. Bunin sees the origins of all sorts of unrest, hesitation and unsteadiness in Russia in the spiritual darkness, youth, discontent and imbalance of the Russian people. Russia is a typical country of a brawler.
Here Russian history "sins" with extreme "repetition". After all, there was Stenka Razin, and Pugachev, and Kazi-Mulla ... The people, as drawn by a thirst for justice, extraordinary changes, freedom, equality, a quick increase in welfare, and not understanding much, rose and walked under the banners of those same leaders, false kings, impostors and ambitious people. The people were, as a rule, the most diverse, but at the end of any "Russian bacchanalia" most of them were runaway thieves, lazybones, bastards and mob. The original goal is no longer important and has long been forgotten - to destroy the old order to the ground and to erect a new one in its place. Or rather, ideas are being erased, but slogans are preserved to the end - one must somehow justify this chaos and darkness. Complete robbery is allowed, complete equality, complete freedom from any law, society and religion. On the one hand, the people become drunk with wine and blood, and on the other hand, they prostrate themselves before the "leader", because for the slightest disobedience, anyone could be punished by a torturous death. The “Russian bacchanalia” surpasses in scope everything that was before it. Large scale, “meaninglessness” and a special, incomparable blind, rude “ruthlessness”, when “the good are taken away from the good, the evil are unleashed for all evil” - these are the main features of the Russian revolutions. And that’s exactly what happened again on a massive scale…
Odessa, 1919
Bunin I.A., "Cursed Days" - a summary of the chapters does not end there. In the spring of 1919 the writer moved to Odessa. And again, life turns into a constant expectation of an early denouement. In Moscow, many were waiting for the Germans, naively believing that they would interfere in the internal affairs of Russia and free it from the Bolshevik darkness. Here, in Odessa, people are constantly running to Nikolaevsky Boulevard - is it worth it, a French destroyer graying in the distance. If yes, then there is at least some kind of protection, hope, and if not, horror, chaos, emptiness, and then everything will end.
Every morning starts with reading newspapers. They are full of rumors and lies, it accumulates so much that you can suffocate, but whether it rains, it's cold - all the same the author runs and spends the last money. What is Petersburg? What's in Kyiv? What are Denikin and Kolchak? Questions without answers. Instead, there are screaming headlines: “The Red Army is only forward! We walk together from victory to victory! or “Forward, relatives, do not count the corpses!”, And under them, in a calm, slender row, as if it were necessary, there are notes about the endless executions of the enemies of the Soviets or “warnings” about an imminent power outage due to the complete depletion of fuel. Well, the results are quite expected ... In one month, they “processed” everything and everything: “no railways, no trams, no water, no bread, no clothes - nothing!”
The city, once noisy and joyful, is all in darkness, except for the places where "Bolshevik dens" are "lodging". There, chandeliers are blazing with all their might, fervent balalaikas are heard, black banners can be seen on the walls, against which white skulls with slogans: “Death to the bourgeoisie! But it's scary not only at night, but also during the day. Few go out into the street. The city does not live, the whole huge city sits at home. There is a feeling in the air that the country has been conquered by another people, some kind of special ", which is much worse than any seen before. And this conqueror roams the streets, plays the accordion, dances, “obscenely”, spits seeds, trades from stalls, and on his face, this conqueror, first of all, there is no routine, no simplicity. It is completely repulsive, frightening with its evil stupidity and destroying all living things with its “gloomy and at the same time lackey” challenge to everything and everyone ...
"Cursed Days", Bunin, summary: conclusion
In the last days of January 1920, I. A. Bunin and his family fled from Odessa. The pages of the diary were lost. Therefore, the Odessa notes break off at this point ...
In conclusion of the article “Cursed Days”, Bunin: a summary of the work, I would like to quote one more word from the author about the Russian people, whom, despite his anger, righteous anger, he loved and revered immensely, since he was inextricably linked with his Fatherland - Russia . He said that in Russia there are two types of people: in the first, Russia dominates, in the other, Chud. But both in one and in the second there is an amazing, sometimes terrible changeability of moods and appearances, the so-called "shakyness". From him, the people, as from a tree, both a club and an icon can come out. It all depends on the circumstances and on who cuts this tree: Emelka Pugachev or Reverend Sergius. I. A. Bunin saw and loved this “icon”. Many believed that they only hated. But no. This anger from love was also from suffering, so boundless, so fierce from the fact that a real abuse was taking place against her. You see, but you can't do anything.
Once again I would like to remind you that the article dealt with the work “Cursed Days”, Bunin. The summary cannot convey all the subtlety and depth of the author's feelings, so reading the diary notes in full is simply necessary.
In 1918-1920, Bunin wrote down his direct observations and impressions of the events in Russia at that time in the form of diary notes. Here are some snippets:
Moscow, 1918
January 1 (old style). This cursed year is over. But what's next? Maybe something even more terrible. Maybe even like this:
February 5th. From the first of February they ordered to be a new style. So in their opinion it is already the eighteenth:
February 6. In the newspapers - about the beginning of the offensive against us by the Germans. Everyone says: . On Petrovka, monks break ice. Passers-by celebrate, gloat:
We omit the dates below. A young officer entered the tram car and, blushing, said that he was. Derman, a critic, arrived - he fled from Simferopol. There, he says, are soldiers and workers. Some old colonel was roasted alive in a locomotive furnace. You hear it all the time now. But real impartiality will never happen anyway. And most importantly: ours will be very, very expensive for the future historian. Is it only important? But we are not people, are we? In hell on the tram, clouds of soldiers with sacks are fleeing from Moscow, fearing that they will be sent to defend St. Petersburg from the Germans. I met a soldier boy on Povarskaya, ragged, skinny, foul and drunk to smithereens. He poked me in the chest with his muzzle and, staggering back, spat on me and said: On the walls of the houses, someone has pasted posters incriminating Trotsky and Lenin in connection with the Germans, that they were bribed by the Germans. I ask Klestov: Conversation with polishers:
Well, what do you say, gentlemen, pretty?
Yes, what do you say. Everything is bad.
But God knows, - said the curly-haired one. - We are a dark people: What do we know? That's what will happen: they let criminals out of prisons, so they control us, but we must not let them out, but we should have shot them with a filthy gun a long time ago. The king was imprisoned, but there was no such thing under him. And now these Bolsheviks cannot be beaten. The people have weakened: There are only a hundred thousand of them, and there are so many millions of us, and we can do nothing. Now if only they could open the treasury, they would give us freedom, we would drag them all to shreds from their apartments>.
A conversation overheard on the phone:
I have fifteen officers and adjutant Kaledin. What to do?
Shoot immediately.
Again, some kind of demonstration, banners, posters, music - and some in the forest, some for firewood, in hundreds of throats: . Voices uterine, primitive. The women's faces are Chuvash, Mordovian, the men's, all as if by choice, criminal, others are directly Sakhalin. The Romans put marks on the faces of their convicts: . Nothing needs to be put on these faces, and everything is visible without any stigma. Read an article by Lenin. Insignificant and fraudulent - now international, then. . Lenin's speech. Oh what an animal! I read about corpses standing at the bottom of the sea - killed, drowned officers. And here. The entire Lubyanka Square glistens in the sun. Liquid mud splashes from under the wheels. And Asia, Asia - soldiers, boys, trading in gingerbread, halva, poppy tiles, cigarettes: Soldiers and workers, now and then rattling on trucks, have triumphant faces. In P.'s kitchen, a fat-faced soldier: He says that, of course, socialism is now impossible, but that the bourgeois still need to be cut.
Odessa. 1919
April 12 (old style). It's been almost three weeks since our death. Dead, empty port, dead, filthy city-Letter from Moscow: dated August 10 came only today. However, the Russian post office ended a long time ago, back in the summer of 17: since the very first time, in a European way, it appeared in our country. Then he appeared for the first time and - and then the whole of Russia stopped working. Yes, and the Satan of Cain's malice, bloodthirstiness and the wildest arbitrariness breathed on Russia precisely in those days when brotherhood, equality and freedom were proclaimed. Then immediately came a frenzy, acute insanity. Everyone was yelling at each other for the slightest contradiction: .
I often recall the indignation with which my supposedly all black images of the Russian people were greeted. :And who? Those who are fed are drunk with the very literature that for a hundred years has disgraced literally all classes, that is, the tradesman, official, policeman, landowner, prosperous peasant - in a word, everything and everyone, with the exception of some - horseless, of course - and bums.
Now all the houses are dark, the whole city is in darkness, except for those places where these robbers' dens - chandeliers are blazing there, balalaikas are heard, walls hung with black banners are visible, on which are white skulls with inscriptions:
He speaks, screams, stuttering, with saliva in his mouth, his eyes seem especially furious through the crookedly hanging pince-nez. The tie came out high from behind on a dirty paper collar, the waistcoat was utterly soiled, there was dandruff on the shoulders of the short jacket, greasy liquid hair was disheveled: And they assure me that this viper is allegedly obsessed, !
There are two types of people. In one, Russia predominates, in the other - Chud. But in both there is a terrible changeability of moods, appearances, as they used to say in the old days. The people themselves vowed to themselves: - depending on the circumstances, on who processes this tree: Sergius of Radonezh or Emelka Pugachev.
I heard that we will also have this wild robbery, which is already going on in Kyiv - clothes and shoes: But it's creepy even during the day. The whole huge city does not live, sits at home, goes out a little. The city feels conquered as if by some special people, who seem much more terrible than, I think, our Pechenegs seemed to our ancestors. And the conqueror staggers, trades from stalls, spits seeds,. Along Deribasovskaya, either a huge crowd is moving, accompanying for entertainment the coffin of some swindler, who is certainly passed off as (lying in a red coffin :), or black jackets of sailors playing the accordion, dancing and screaming:
In general, as soon as the city becomes, the crowd that fills the streets immediately changes dramatically. A certain selection of faces is being made: First of all, there is no ordinary, simplicity on these faces. All of them are almost entirely sharply repulsive, frightening with evil stupidity, some kind of gloomy lackey challenge to everything and everyone.
I saw the Field of Mars, on which they had just performed, as a kind of traditional sacrifice of the revolution, the comedy of the funeral of the heroes who allegedly fell for freedom. What needs, that it was, in fact, a mockery of the dead, that they were deprived of an honest Christian burial, boarded up in red coffins for some reason and unnaturally buried in the very center of the city of the living.
From (wonderful Russian):
Poster caption:
By the way, about the Odessa emergency. There is now a new way to shoot - over a closet cup.
In newspapers: . So, in one month everything was processed: no factories, no railways, no trams, no water, no bread, no clothes - nothing!
Late last night, together with our house, they came to measure the length, width and height of all our rooms.
Why a commissioner, why a tribunal and not just a court? This is because only under the protection of such sacred revolutionary words can one so boldly walk knee-deep in blood:
In the Red Army, the main thing is promiscuity. A cigarette is in his teeth, his eyes are cloudy, insolent, the cap falls on the back of his head, falls on his forehead. Dressed in some kind of team rags. Sentinels sit at the entrances of requisitioned houses in armchairs in the most broken poses. Sometimes just a tramp sits, a browning on his belt, a German cleaver hangs from one side, and a dagger from the other.
Appeals in a purely Russian spirit:
Another 15 people were shot in Odessa (the list has been published). Sent from Odessa, that is, with food (and Odessa itself is dying of hunger).
R. S. Here my Odessa notes break off. The sheets following these I buried so well in one place in the ground that before fleeing from Odessa, at the end of January 1920, I could not find them in any way.
In 1918-1920, Bunin wrote down his direct observations and impressions of events in Russia in the form of diary notes. He called 1918 a “cursed” year, and expected something even more terrible from the future.
Bunin writes very ironically about the introduction of a new style. He mentions “the beginning of the German offensive against us”, which everyone welcomes, and describes the incidents that he observed on the streets of Moscow.
A young officer enters the tramcar and embarrassedly says that he "cannot, unfortunately, pay for the ticket."
The critic Derman returns to Moscow - he fled from Simferopol. He says that there is “an indescribable horror”, soldiers and workers “walk up to their knees in blood”. Some old colonel was roasted alive in a locomotive furnace.
“The time has not yet come to deal with the Russian revolution impartially, objectively…” This is now heard every minute. But real impartiality will never happen anyway, and our “partiality” will be very dear to the future historian. Is the "passion" only of the "revolutionary people" important?
Hell on the tram, clouds of soldiers with sacks are fleeing from Moscow, fearing that they will be sent to defend St. Petersburg from the Germans. The author meets a boy soldier, ragged, skinny and drunk to smithereens. The soldier stumbles upon the author, staggering back, spits on him and says: “Despot, son of a bitch!”.
Posters are pasted on the walls of houses, accusing Trotsky and Lenin of being bribed by the Germans. The author asks a friend exactly how much these scoundrels received. A friend with a grin replies - decently.
Again, some kind of demonstration, banners, posters, singing in hundreds of throats: “Get up, get up, work people!”. Voices uterine, primitive. The women's faces are Chuvash, Mordovian, the men's, all as if by choice, criminal, others are directly Sakhalin. The Romans put marks on the faces of their convicts. Nothing needs to be put on these faces, and everything is visible without any stigma.
The entire Lubyanka Square glistens in the sun. Liquid mud squirts from under the wheels, soldiers, boys, bargaining for gingerbread, halva, poppy tiles, cigarettes - real Asia. Soldiers and workers passing by in trucks have triumphant faces. In the kitchen of a friend there is a fat-faced soldier. He says that socialism is now impossible, but the bourgeois must be cut.
Odessa, April 12, 1919 (old style). Dead, empty port, filthy city. The post office has not been working since the summer of 1917, since the first time, in a European way, the “Minister of Posts and Telegraphs” appeared. At the same time, the first “Minister of Labor” appeared, and all of Russia stopped working. Yes, and the Satan of Cain's malice, bloodthirstiness and the wildest arbitrariness breathed on Russia precisely in those days when brotherhood, equality and freedom were proclaimed.
The author often recalls the indignation with which he was greeted, as it were, by all black images of the Russian people. People were indignant, nourished by the very literature that for a hundred years dishonored the priest, the philistine, the philistine, the official, the policeman, the landowner, the prosperous peasant - all classes, except for the horseless "people" and tramps.
Now all the houses are dark. The light burns only in robber dens, where chandeliers are blazing, balalaikas are heard, walls hung with black banners with white skulls and inscriptions: “Death to the bourgeois!” are visible.
The author describes an ardent fighter for the revolution: saliva in his mouth, eyes glaring furiously through a crookedly hanging pince-nez, a tie crawled out onto a dirty paper collar, a dirty vest, dandruff on the shoulders of a short jacket, greasy, liquid hair is disheveled. And this viper is obsessed with “fiery, selfless love for man”, “thirst for beauty, goodness and justice”!
There are two types of people. Russia dominates in one, Chud dominates in the other. But in both there is a terrible changeability of moods and appearances. The people themselves say to themselves: “From us, as from a tree, there is both a club and an icon.” It all depends on who is processing this tree: Sergius of Radonezh or Emelka Pugachev.
“From victory to victory - new successes of the valiant Red Army. Execution of 26 Black Hundreds in Odessa…”
The author expects that a wild robbery will begin in Odessa, which is already underway in Kyiv, a “gathering” of clothes and shoes. Even during the day, the city is creepy. Everyone is sitting at home. The city feels conquered by someone who seems to the inhabitants more terrible than the Pechenegs. And the conqueror sells from the stalls, spits seeds, "covers obscenities."
Along Deribasovskaya, either a huge crowd is moving, accompanying the red coffin of some swindler, pretending to be a “fallen fighter”, or the black jackets of sailors playing the accordion, dancing and screaming: “Oh, apple, where are you going!”.
The city becomes “red”, and the crowd that fills the streets immediately changes. On new faces there is no routine, no simplicity. All of them are sharply repulsive, frightening with evil stupidity, a gloomy lackey challenge to everything and everyone.
The author recalls the Field of Mars, where, as a kind of sacrifice to the revolution, the comedy of the funeral of “heroes who fell for freedom” was performed. According to the author, this was a mockery of the dead, who were deprived of an honest Christian burial, boarded up in red coffins and unnaturally buried in the very center of the city of the living.
Signature under the poster: "Don't look up, Denikin, on a foreign land!".
In the Odessa "Cheer" a new manner of shooting - over a closet cup.
"Warning" in the newspapers: "Due to the complete depletion of fuel, electricity will soon be out." In one month, everything was processed - factories, railways, trams. No water, no bread, no clothes - nothing!
Late in the evening, together with the "commissar" of the house, they come to the author to measure the length, width and height of all the rooms "for the purpose of compaction by the proletariat."
Why a commissioner, why a tribunal and not just a court? Because only under the protection of such sacred revolutionary words can one so boldly walk knee-deep in blood.
The main feature of the Red Army is promiscuity. A cigarette is in his teeth, his eyes are cloudy, insolent, a cap is on the back of his head, “hair” falls on his forehead. Dressed in team rags. Sentinels sit at the entrances of requisitioned houses, lounging in their chairs. Sometimes just a tramp sits, a browning on his belt, a German cleaver hangs from one side, and a dagger from the other.
Calls in a purely Russian spirit: "Forward, relatives, do not count the corpses!".
Fifteen more people are shot in Odessa and the list is published. From Odessa sent "two trains with gifts to the defenders of St. Petersburg", that is, with food, and Odessa itself is dying of hunger.
(No Ratings Yet)
Summary of “Cursed Days” by Bunin
Other essays on the topic:
- Bunin, as we know, is definitely not the February, and then the October Revolution of 1917. At the time of the fratricidal civil war, he ...
- The novel is dedicated to the history of the working-class Lashkov family. The book consists of seven parts, each of which is called by the days of the week and tells ...
- The protagonist of the novel, Colin, is a very sweet young man of twenty-two years old, who smiles so often with an infantile smile that from it ...
- The narrator, a neglected, long-haired fat man of not his first youth, decides to study painting. Having abandoned his estate in the Tambov province, he spends the winter in ...
- Tanya, a seventeen-year-old village girl with a simple, pretty face and gray peasant eyes, serves as a maid for a petty landowner, Kazakova. At times to...
- The author-narrator recalls the recent past. He recalls the early fine autumn, the whole golden, dried up and thinned garden, the delicate aroma of fallen leaves and ...
- S Madame Marot, born and raised in Lausanne, in a strict, honest family, marries for love. The newlyweds go to Algeria,...
- The narrator remembers the groom. He was always considered in the family as his man: his late father was a friend and neighbor of his father. AT...
- The essay is not the topic of the Chernobyl disaster. Disclosure of the problem of truth and conscience in works about the tragedy of Chernobyl. Twenty years is a moment...
In the country, something was constantly destroyed and defiled. All this points to the cynicism of historical figures influencing the course of history. They did not always kill, but despite this, Russia periodically found itself knee-deep in blood. And sometimes death was the only deliverance from never-ending suffering.
The life of the population in the renewed Russia was a slow death. Having quickly destroyed values, including religious ones, created over the centuries, the revolutionaries did not offer their national, spiritual wealth. But the virus of anarchy and permissiveness actively developed, infecting everything in its path.
Chapter "Moscow 1918"
The work itself is written in the form of diary notes. This style very colorfully reflects the contemporary's vision of the reality that has come. The post-revolutionary period triumphed on the street, there were changes in state activity. Bunin was very worried about his homeland. This is exactly what is reflected in the lines. The author felt pain for the suffering of his people, in his own way he felt them on himself.
The first entry in the diary was made in January 18. The author wrote that the damned year is behind us, but the people still have no joy. He cannot imagine what lies ahead for Russia. There is no optimism at all. And those small gaps that do not lead to a brighter future at all do not improve the situation at all.
Bunin notes that after the revolution, bandits were released from prisons, who felt the taste of power with their gut. The author notes that having driven the king from the throne, the soldiers became even more cruel and punish everyone in a row, indiscriminately. These one hundred thousand people have taken power over millions. And although not all the people share the views of the revolutionaries, it is not possible to stop the insane machine of power.
Chapter "Impartiality"
Bunin did not hide the fact that he did not like the revolutionary changes. Sometimes the public, both in Russia and abroad, accused him of the fact that such judgments are very subjective. Many said that only time could indicate impartiality and objectively assess the correctness of revolutionary directions. To such statements, Ivan Alekseevich had one answer: “impartiality does not really exist, and in general such a concept is incomprehensible, and his statements are directly related to terrible experiences.” Having thus a clear position, the writer did not try to please the public, but described what he saw, heard, felt as it really is. Bunin noted that the people have every right to separate hatred, anger and condemnation of what is happening around. After all, it is very easy to just watch what is happening from a far corner and know that all the cruelty and inhumanity will not reach you.
Once in the thick of things, a person’s opinion changes dramatically. After all, you don’t know if you will return alive today, you experience hunger every day, you are thrown out into the street from your own apartment, and you don’t know where to go. Such physical suffering is even incomparable with mental. A person realizes that his children will never see the homeland that was before. Values, attitudes, principles, beliefs are changing.
Chapter "Emotions and Feelings"
The plot of the story "Cursed Days", like the life of that time, is full of devastation, facts of depression and intolerance. The lines and thoughts are presented in such a way that after reading them, in all dark colors, a person sees not only negative sides, but also positive ones. The author notes that dark pictures, in which there are no bright colors, are perceived much more emotionally and sink deeper into the soul.
The revolution itself and the Bolsheviks are presented as black ink, which are placed on snow-white snow. Such a contrast is painfully beautiful, at the same time causing disgust, fear. Against this background, people begin to believe that sooner or later there will be someone who can defeat the destroyer of human souls.
Chapter "Contemporaries"
The book contains a lot of information about contemporaries of Ivan Alekseevicha. Here he cites his statements, reflections on Blok, Mayakovsky, Tikhonov and many other literary figures of that time. Most often, he condemns writers for their wrong (in his opinion) views. Bunin cannot forgive them in any way for bowing down to the new usurper government. The author does not understand what honest business can be done with the Bolsheviks.
He notes that Russian writers, on the one hand, are trying to fight, calling the authorities adventurous, betraying the views of the common people. And on the other hand, they live as before, with posters of Lenin hung on the walls and are constantly under the control of the guards organized by the Bolsheviks.
Some of his contemporaries openly declared that they intended to join the Bolsheviks themselves, and did so. Bunin considers them stupid people who previously extolled autocracy, and now adhere to Bolshevism. Such dashes create a kind of fence, from under which it is almost impossible for people to get out.
Chapter "Lenin"
It should be noted that the image of Lenin is described in a special way in the work. It is saturated with strong hatred, while the author did not really skimp on all sorts of epithets addressed to the leader. He called him insignificant, a swindler, and even an animal. Bunin notes that various leaflets were hung around the city many times, describing Lenin as a scoundrel, a traitor who was bribed by the Germans. Bunin does not particularly believe these rumors and counts people. Who posted such announcements, simple fanatics, obsessed with the limits of reason, who stood on the pedestal of their adoration. The writer notes that such people never stop and always go to the end, no matter how deplorable the outcome of events.
Bunin pays special attention to Lenin as a person. He writes that Lenin was afraid of everything like fire, he saw conspiracies against him everywhere. He was very worried that he would lose power or life, and until the last he did not believe that there would be a victory in October.
Chapter "Russian Bacchanalia"
In his work, Ivan Alekseevich gives an answer, which is why such nonsense arose among the people. He relies on the well-known works of the world, at that time, critics - Kostomarov and Solovyov. The story gives clear answers to the causes of spiritual fluctuations among the people. The author notes that Russia is a typical state of a brawler.
Bunin presents the reader with the people as a society, constantly thirsting for justice, as well as change and equality. People who want a better life, periodically became under the banner of impostor kings, who had only selfish goals.
Although the people were of the most diverse social orientation, by the end of the orgy only thieves and lazybones remained. It became completely unimportant what goals were set initially. The fact that earlier everyone wanted to create a new and just order was suddenly forgotten. The author says that ideas disappear over time, and only various slogans remain to justify the resulting chaos.
The work created by Bunin described facts from the life of the writer until January 1920. It was at this time that Bunin, along with his family members, fled from the new government in Odessa. Here part of the diary was lost without a trace. That is why the story ends at this stage.
In conclusion, it is worth noting the exceptional words about the Russian people. Bunin, immensely respected his people, as he was always connected by invisible threads with his homeland, with his fatherland. The writer said that in Russia there are two types of people. The first is dominance, and the second is freak fanatics. Each of these species can have a changeable character, changing their views many times.
Many critics believed that Bunin did not understand and did not like people, but this is absolutely not the case. The anger arising in the soul of the writer was aimed at dislike for the people's suffering. And the reluctance to idealize the life of Russia during the period of revolutionary changes makes Bunin's works not only literary masterpieces, but also historical information sources.
