No, I don’t love battle, but comfort,
The end is being prepared for the Russian people.
She was born in the Urals in Verkhoturye, in a settlement of special settlers, where both her grandmothers and their families were deported. On her mother’s side, Nina Kartasheva comes from Pskov-Novgorod peasants, dispossessed and exiled to Verkhoturye in 1929. On her father’s side, she is a Russian noble; her paternal grandmother, after imprisonment (Article 58), already in exile in the Urals, took monastic vows in the world. The poetess's mother died when the girl was 6 years old, and she was raised by her grandmother, a nun. In the Urals, Kartasheva graduated from general education and music schools, and then from a music pedagogical school in Leningrad. At the age of 18, she got married and moved to the Moscow region. She worked as a teacher at a children's music school and the Moscow Chamber Orchestra.
The first poems were written in a diary at the age of 6-7 years. But it began to be published in about 1990. The first selection of poems was published in the magazine “Our Contemporary” No. 9 for 1990 and was received by readers with great success.
The main thing in Kartasheva’s work is chastity. This is of undoubted artistic value. After all, for how many centuries the world's poetry has sung the sweetness of sin and vice, enjoying the poisonous aroma of the flowers of evil. The opposite ascetic poetry of saints or those who have renounced the world, alas, does not so touch those living in the world with all its passions; such poetry is too far from the local vale. The phenomenon of Kartasheva’s poetry is that she, while remaining a secular woman, lives in the world, but always remains Orthodox in all manifestations, therefore she cannot sing of sin, intuitively resisting temptations, which, of course, cannot be avoided, but can be defeated if the soul is pure and high. It is in this that Kartasheva finds her only and true beauty. This is done without any fuss, simply, at the level of the breath of life:
Raised Slavic nose
And the child’s mouth is inexperienced,
And the lightness of brown hair,
And the forehead is detached from the world.
But the neck is proud and bending,
Shoulders sloping picture -
Not a virgin, but a feminine type,
But still there is innocence in him.
And the gaze of the soul does not fail
Shadows of colors and passions,
He is protected by purity,
As if covered with crosses.
Kartasheva’s poems are distinguished by her fearlessness to name the Russian people’s secret enemies by name, her incorruptibility and sincerity, and her aristocratic disdain for “Jewish fears.” Some lines of her poems have become aphorisms and are on the lips of many: “life is over - life has begun”; “I took off the ring so you could buy a weapon”, “the estates burned down, but the soil remained”; “let someone from Common Europe, and I from All Rus'”, “the nobility must be earned again”, “Russian people were not slaves, even Soviet people were Russians”, “we must humble ourselves before God, but not humble ourselves before evil”, etc. .d.
Kartasheva writes little and, as she herself says, without drafts, that is, she does not work on the line, so sometimes there is no finishing and completeness. She reads a lot on stage. This is her second natural talent. She alone created the theater of Russian poetry. So far it is the only one in Russia, so its creative evenings always delight the audience.
Kartasheva holds creative meetings and evenings of Russian spiritual culture in many cities of Russia and constantly in Moscow, for the 10th year at the International Slavic Cultural Center and the 3rd year at the museum of the artist K. Vasiliev.
Kartasheva writes about herself this way: “If another poet had sincerely and passionately said what I write about, I would have given in, because I want to live in peace, for me family is the main thing. When 10 Aug. 1999, in the morning, not just masked robbers, but Satanists burst into our door, throwing scissors at my feet (thank God, I wasn’t hurt), then they called me on the phone and mockingly told me that no one was going to kill me, there were too many “ honor” to make Talkov out of me, but they threatened to disgrace me, stop publishing, etc. But my conscience before God, before the Motherland and before the Russians is clear. I do no harm to anyone, I only call the enemy an enemy and I cannot curry favor with him, even if he is three times rich and powerful “to print or not to print, to give the opportunity to speak or to deprive,” I still write: We must humble ourselves before God, but not humble ourselves before evil!
And all my simple, unpretentious nature is in these feminine, artless lines:
No, I don’t love battle, but comfort,
Children, outfits, music, nature.
But they just don’t let me live in peace,
The end is being prepared for the Russian people.
But I won’t go all out for comfort,
In vain the raven circles above me,
As from time immemorial, I stood at the icons,
I took off the ring so you could buy a weapon!
Guardian angel, your prayer...
Guardian angel, your prayer
She brought me out of the fire again.
Am I crying or am I happy?
I know, my angel, you are near me!
Don't stop loving me, even though I'm not worth loving,
Do not give up your holy faith -
Maybe an angel, with God's help,
I will become like in childhood, I will be like you.
At the monastery of St. Seraphim
There are always people - day and night
He goes to the miraculous shrine,
An old man is carrying a crippled daughter,
A monk is walking in black clothes,
The student behaves through shame,
A sullen dissident is coming,
A tourist or a holy fool wanders -
After all, people still believe! Reverend
Father Sergius, forgive us,
What we pray each for ourselves,
At best, for a daughter or a son,
At best, grieving or loving...
Venerable Father Sergius, to Russia
A new legion has landed -
We cannot recognize, our spirit is powerless,
Without an escort, we are led into the crowd.
I'll tighten the ancient belt,
On which are prophetic words.
Father Sergius! Our help is live!
Gather us together with the power of kinship.
Here they raised their hand
Here they raised their hand - they were waiting, I
I'll turn my cheek
They’ll hit me on the right, I’ll turn left.
“You are a Christian,” I hear the enemy whisper,
You are being beaten according to the commandment, remember it by heart!”
Who's hitting? Who trampled on the image,
Is the likeness of God distorted in oneself?
Who would be happy to hang us by the ribs again,
But the will is not given now.
And if they hit me on the right,
And I would substitute my left one - what?
Reprisals would be meted out against defenselessness.
Non-resistance is drenched in blood.
Whenever my brother would strike without guilt.
I could kiss the hand that beat me!
Or a fool in disbelief, in an evil frenzy -
I could forgive, I could take the blow!
But they couldn’t, they wouldn’t dare
For a woman who is weaker...
They would be humbled by humility,
They contain the image of God in the form of people.
But to you, who know everything and reject everything,
To traders who change their appearance -
I will answer blow for blow myself,
And God will beat you! And eternal shame!
It is not for you to teach others how to live according to God.
There is a teacher - the Lord. He taught
A good lesson, but he was angry too,
When he drove the traders out of the temple with a whip.
Graceful angel icon
Graceful angel on the icon,
An unrealized ideal
Your image is incorporeally subtle
Always protected me.
Living with me somewhere
You are a creature of other worlds
Invisible. But there is a sign
Your flying steps:
I know you love prayers
And the days of Great Lent,
You stand with me as a bright shadow
In the winged symbol of the cross.
Do you love music, nature,
You love pure poetry.
And if your echo is given to me _
Your words are light to me.
But what are you retreating from?
And how do I, a sinner, live -
Sorry! You'll count everything later,
You pick flowers, you burn the grass.
Working people with outstretched...
Working people with outstretched hand
At the entrance of a closed factory.
And you scold the people. And who is he?
Isn't he a degenerate, descended from the family?
Buy and sell, comfort, foreign currency account.
You disdainfully despise misfortunes.
Tell me, is the blood flowing through you?
Why do you crave even more power?
Who benefits from your high rank?
I am looking for signs of a great nation in you -
Although you are a prodigal, you are a son of Russia.
So remember at least this about yourself.
Sword
Shameful world, struggle for survival.
And survival means extinction,
Humility and submission before evil.
The price per soul is slave acquisition,
And this price will go up
For the pitiful scraps under the table.
No! I won't survive in vain
Among kosher ones. I'm not elitist.
I'm Russian! I can't be conquered
And don't buy it. I am grateful to my ancestors
Holy Rus' shines radiantly for me,
So that I could not survive, but live.
Not to die out, but to die beautifully!
For this long I will be dangerous
To those who do not publish poetry,
To whom everything is already clear with me,
I have nothing to do with elite slaves.
Why else do I need other people's sins?
But to whom will my voice reach in the desert,
From now on I will no longer be a slave to my enemies,
Will straighten the power and strength of Russian shoulders.
He will become a warrior, as given to a man,
Him, not me, the fair half,
Raise for our Russian shrines
And for me the Treasured Russian Sword!
Candle
I'm trying to overcome the darkness with a candle
In a wilderness forgotten by God and people.
The night wanders in the eyeless darkness,
Silent than a yearning soul.
Here is the power of darkness, embittered against the light.
I outline a circle with candle fire
From the evils and troubles that have come around.
The spear of a candle pierces the darkness in the night.
Oh, if only it lasted until the morning
Candles and spell verses,
Flowing now from the pen
From the clear clairvoyant psalms.
Live! In this light overcome
The darkness of dark forces behind the circle of ancient words.
And suddenly the night began to see clearly - the visions were gone!
Dawn spread a joyful blanket.
The Easter sun rejoices from heaven:
CHRIST IS RISEN! - TRULY IS RISEN!
I will gather my mind, my conscience, and my spirit
I will gather my mind, my conscience, and my spirit,
I will stand before God in schema and chains:
Let me die, but rise again, Rus'!
Resurrect the former great Motherland.
You sacredly repeated the path of Christ,
She did not spare herself and her son for peace,
Betrayal, bearing the Cross,
The crucifixion - all this has already happened.
I pray to the myrrh-bearer at the tomb,
Resurrect, Rus'! Fulfill the promise!-
There is a terrible trace of suffering on the shroud,
But the body is not in the coffin. Rus' has risen.
So watch now, disciples.
Rus' will appear to you in spite of death.
Nina Vasilievna Kartashova is the last aristocrat of Russian poetry, an aristocrat not only in spirit, but also in origin, which gives her poems a special sense of responsibility for her people, characteristic of a true national elite.
I remember how she read poetry in the Slavic Center - I see a hall with high lancet windows, a portrait of the last emperor and a poetess dressed in a spectacular dress of a court lady, like the heroine of a historical film. Her gestures are majestic, her posture is proud, her voice is sonorous. With the fervor of a prophetess, she appeals to the people: “Hold on, brothers! This is just the beginning./But there is no death. Don’t be afraid to die./The solemn solar brass/The seventh trumpet of the Archangel sounded:/Hold on, brothers, this is just the beginning.”
Her poetry is consciously traditional, verified in accordance with the long-standing canons of Russian lyrics. I note that this also deprives most poets of the patriotic direction of an individual style, unless they themselves write so vividly and passionately that you do not notice the lack of personal creative finds, captured by a storm of emotions. And Nina Vasilievna puts her soul into her lines: “Staggering in civilian clothes, in disgrace and disgrace./Eternal memory to the golden epaulettes!/Russian people were not slaves./You, officers, forgot about this.../Power and superiors. It's like that. But you yourself/have corrupted the trumpet marches in the guitars./Russian people were not slaves./Even the Soviets were Russians...”
Love for the Motherland is the impulse that guides the development of its plots. Vivid, vivid images and convincing thoughts resonate with the reader.
In Nina Kartashova’s poems, the national and the personal are closely interconnected. She is a supporter of patriarchal foundations, strict morality, age-old proven views on the hierarchy of power, where, as Marina Tsvetaeva wrote, “The king is for the people, the king is for the people”. She is acutely aware of the disharmony in the state and restores it, at least in furiously indignant verses: “There are few of us left, but the Lord is with us!/Even though we are impoverished, thin and wretched,/But this is the strength – to overcome the enemy./The bloody army will be whitened by us,/The country will raise the power and the scepter!/And Russian glory, and the Russian banner /They will put on crosses-orders, as before!”
The theme of the king and royal power is one of the most important for the poetess. Monarchy is the foundation of the state. The power of God and the power of the king are the vertical, the axis of the world. Holy ascetics and simply believers are the basis of society. With a sense of honor and duty, the poetess talks about this, debates with opponents, and appeals to like-minded people. The archaic layers of the people's consciousness preserve the formula of true power, sanctified from above, and Nina Vasilievna writes, focusing on this formula. The quintessence of her poetry are the lines that she puts as an epigraph to her speeches: “My poetry is destiny, not a profession./My religion is Christ, not foreignness./My Fatherland is Holy Sovereign Russia./Everything else is not important to me.”
Her civil lyrics are alien to the position of fear, uncertainty, and doom. There is no feeling of loneliness, because she feels herself in the midst of the people, and always conducts a dialogue with an ally or opponent: “I have something to spend so that you can save./And as soon as you don’t call me!/Will you buy everything? - You can’t buy me./Will you take me by force? “You won’t take my soul./You are insignificant, both gold and damask steel./I dare to be both poor and free./In Russia - Russian and only begotten,/To whom treasure is given for simplicity.”
Sometimes Nina Vasilievna’s poems are deliberately edifying; she strictly advises living the way that seems right to her. But the source of this edification is pain for the people. “You are an unarmed warrior in the Field, / Do not slander your poor people...”, “Help those who are weaker...”, “Love your own - and the enemy will be weakened!” The characteristic features of her work are confidence in herself and the nation, hope in the effectiveness of the word - denouncing, calling. This is the attitude of a person who is convinced that he creates the destiny of the country. Undoubtedly, it was given to the poetess as a legacy of her ancestors: “They carried out reprisals against the faith,/They crushed the stronghold of peoples./In the bloody twenties, thirties/My ancient family was martyred./My grandfather in valiant Russian courage/Russia was faithful to the Tsar./To the grave he was faithful to the Oath -/Executed for the glory of October... »
The nobility of Russia was initially formed from those who defended and strengthened its power and led to victories. This is not a newfangled pseudo-elite of swindlers-oligarchs and hypocrites-politicians, which "eats from the coat of arms on a platter". The responsibility of the true aristocracy for its people and the state remains with a few; it is in the blood, and not in the bank account. To those who, boasting of their origin, flirt with the enemies of the Fatherland, Nina Vasilievna addresses this way: “...Yes, gentlemen, the Empire is gone./Now you can’t stop living beautifully./So much arrogance, but little honor./Nobility must be earned again.” With her poetry, Nina Kartashova confirms her nobility and the ancient glory of her family. But no less dear to her are the ancestors on the other side - the maternal line, the common people: “I will not give up on my peasant grandmother,/I will not be ashamed of the old and homespun -/I am proud of the beauty of the icon, unsaleable,/Straightforward in words, actions and posture./For faith and for loyalty to the one who served,/Not aged - only grayed./To me from her unlazy hands,/Patience on grief and torment./I will not renounce my grandmother-princess,/Who chose good honor from the Lord,/There was neither arrogance nor pride in her,/There was a Light that shone in dirt and exile./In the world, she had a secret tonsure in the family...”
Nina Vasilievna’s personal moral position is worthy of respect, especially since she never contradicts herself. This is how the poetess sees the character of a real Russian woman: “I am a beggar, but I am not a beggar. / Should I stand in front of the temple with my hand outstretched? / Never! For me, hunger is better/And better yet, rest with the saints.../Take away your money and cases,/Get away, beaten, with your purse full!/What bars!? The same commissars!/It’s not for you to wear my black train behind me.”
Nowadays, Russian civil poetry is characterized by an interest in apocalypticism. The foreboding of the last times is generated by the collapse of a strong statehood, social problems, and the breakdown of moral norms. Where the unbeliever sees the mistakes of the reformers, the believer sees a new stage in approaching God's Judgment.
“Orthodox Church, weep!/What have they done to your people?/There is freedom for the free, but heaven for the saved?/Only they didn’t save us, they destroyed us./Only there was no will and no will./The blood of the Tsar is on everyone. And justification/for all-Russian and universal misfortunes./There is no communion without repentance.”
Viewed in this way, the rulers seem to be carriers of infernal evil, globalization leads to the power of the Antichrist, the Russian people are the last hope of humanity, keeping the world on the edge of the abyss.
Nina Vasilievna says: “The enemies of God and the enemies of Russia are trying to adapt even our best Orthodox Christian qualities to themselves. They want to turn us, God’s servants, into slaves for themselves: “Humble yourself, be patient!” But, my dears, we must humble ourselves before God; To humble oneself before one’s enemies is a grave sin. You can love them, but to humble yourself and allow them to commit atrocities is a sin. The times have come when compromises are no longer acceptable, when it is no longer possible to get along. There can be no middle ground between evil and good.”
But the poetess looks to the future with hope and courage, although who else but her, who is at the center of the Russian opposition, knows about the weakness of those around her and the unreliability of leaders. As a certain elder said: “God will take away all the leaders so that only the Russian people will look at him.”
“Do you want la russe? Here's a balalaika, Folklore.../But we will rule over you!" -/And the world gang triumphs,/And the servants of darkness walk among patriots";
“I don’t see a leader in the Russian camp./Patience and free labor./Russians with dual citizenship/I will be swept away for extremism./But still, in a humble style/I will remind the Russians of one thing:/We must humble ourselves before God,/But not humble ourselves before evil !”
Her philosophy is filled with the holy aspiration for the salvation of the Fatherland and the salvation of the soul, which are interconnected.
* * *
Nina Vasilievna talks about love not obsessively passionately, but with the calm dignity of an aristocrat who knows how to weigh words, expecting chivalry and understanding of her feelings from her chosen one. This is a demanding monologue, but she only demands that the man live up to his purpose - to be a protector, a creator. She does not agree to waste her money on those who are not equal to her in faith and devotion to the Motherland. Wants to see heroes around. Calls out to them like the embodiment of eternal femininity: “You say: “Farewell, Slavyanka!” - /I forgive. And I will bless you:/Fight! Your posture is proud/And the look that I love!/Fight. With the sword, the cross and the word./Do not hesitate, the angel is waiting, trumpeting./You are not alone in the ranks of Christ. -/"I'm coming, Slavyanka! For you!"
In her love lyrics, strong and noble characters collide and interact. Loyalty is unshakable, marriage is sacred, and the drama of unrequited feelings is high, as in ancient times: “Smart and lonely and angry,/You fought to the death with this life./It was not I, but you who found me,/It was not I, but you, who fell in love with me.../And the mind counts with the soul -/Life has found peace,/ And the battle ended peacefully/With myself, for salvation./On the battlefield of existence/Ripe ears of corn are turning white./And the fact that I’m not with you/So much the better. It lifts the spirit higher."
I do not quote many texts in full, but I think a few lines can convey the essence. Here is an unusual plot - a man protects not just his woman, but a woman poet: “How was the duel? Are there really men in our age? Is there a word of honor?/The bloody snow of the Black River/Has become white from this news.../A year has passed. Can I ask?/The bullet was taken out - the scar is like meta./Why didn’t you shoot at the enemy?-/“So that he reads and honors the Poet!”
Nina Vasilievna does not skimp on enthusiastic words if she sees a person who meets her ideas about a true patriot. This image of a comrade in struggle, a brother in poetic weapons was best created by her in dedication to Stanislav Kunyaev: “God help you, our fearless Pomeranian!/Who drank the Cold Sea with his head./Your gaze traced the path by the stars,/By the stars, arguing with the pitch darkness.../We hate the enemy, but we love God./Repelled the blow, not accepting flattery ,/Remaining faithful to Russia and honor,/Your people need you. And enemies are like smoke...”
It should be noted that the name of Nina Kartashova, who became a truly national poetess, was revealed to readers in 1990 by the magazine “Our Contemporary”, whose ideological position is close to her.
Her texts are rich in wisdom generated by strong faith and a correct understanding of the world: “ Don’t be afraid of old age - God is closer from there!”, “Your cruelty of will comes from weakness,After all, the strong are always generous,” “What is a body without a soul? A cold corpse./What is a soul without a body? God’s secret”, “And we give all our gift freely - / And God’s gift will not decrease.” “Not work, but only pleasure, Love and tenderness for everything - This is what inspiration is, And everything corresponds to it!”, “You cannot defeat the enemy in earthly battle, / When we weaken in spiritual battle,” “Polytheism is the essence of atheism, / Multi-power is the essence of anarchy”, “Save the Fatherland - you will save yourself.”
But I perceive this charming poem as a self-portrait of the poetess and at the same time a collective image of her fellow tribeswoman: “A raised Slavic nose,/And an inexperienced child’s mouth,/And the lightness of brown hair, And a forehead detached from the world./But the neck is proud and curved,/The shoulders are sloping—/Not a virgin, but a feminine type./But still in there is innocence in it./And the gaze of the soul is not deceived/by shadows of colors and passions,/It is protected by purity,/As if overshadowed by crosses.”
But this sweet, fragile keeper of the hearth and prayer book does not turn away from reality, but meets it with a direct, confident gaze. Despite her objective vision of what is happening in Russia, Nina Kartashova is optimistic. She is the author of many bright poems that convey the mood of hope, joy, unity with native nature and the mountain world, reflected in it, as in a mirror: “This smell of snow, the smell of coniferous forests / And the sinlessness of humble nature. / These quiet sounds of her voices, / The passage of heavenly, shining exactly hours, / Measuring out the years in eternity. / My world is simple and calm, and blessed. / All that God gives - everything is for good./So you are reconciled, here you are healed,/Tears of joy are healing moisture.”
Strength can be drawn from both hatred and love. For Nina Kartashova, the second is closer, as for a deeply religious person. The poetess is able, even in the fog of despondency that envelops today’s Russia, to discern sparks of better feelings:
" No! I cannot renounce and betray/This world, albeit corruptible, but beautiful,/Powered into evil and therefore unhappy,/But still able to rise again./Given to love smiles and flowers,/Spring thunder, the purest winter air/With love itself pure and mutual!/Given a living sense of beauty...”
She perceives life not as a drama, but as a gift for which she should thank the Creator, because, in spite of everything, love, loyalty, justice, and courage will always remain on earth. We must make the right choice ourselves. Therefore “Place a flower on this page,/And say this to your best neighbor:/In the name of good, let us depart from evil...” It sounds biblically simple.
On October 19, at the Diveyevo House of Culture, the Literary Theater of the International Public Foundation for Slavic Literature and Culture presented the program “On the spiritual heritage of the holy martyr Seraphim Chichagov.”
This saint of modern times is directly connected with Diveevo and among the 17 Diveevo saints occupies a special place, since it was his historical research - “The Chronicle of the Seraphim-Diveevo Monastery” - that served as a catalyst in the process of glorifying St. Seraphim of Sarov. Emperor Nicholas II Alexandrovich read Chichagov’s chronicle before deciding to canonize the popularly revered elder.
The writers Diveeva and Sarova gathered for the music and poetry salon, and the leaders of the Rainbow association Anna Suslova and the children's literary association Litoshka Marina Zubova were present.
The literary theater came to Nizhny Novgorod and Diveevo with the support of the Maecenas charity foundation, as discussed by the Chairman of the Union of Diveevo Writers Nelly Zima. Lately, it’s not easy to find even the most modest funds to invite artists, so special thanks go to poetry-loving enthusiasts. I would like to say a few words about the director of the theater and the author of its programs - the Russian poetess Nina Vasilievna Kartasheva.
The theme of her poems is determined by a strong Orthodox and patriotic position, a deep awareness of the Russian national idea. This is no accident. Nina Kartasheva is a descendant, on the one hand, of a noble family, and on the other, of a peasant family. Her ancestors were of different classes, but deeply religious people. The destinies of these families are intertwined in an era of historical disruption. Nina Vasilievna was born in the settlement of special settlers in the Verkhotursky district of the Sverdlovsk region. My father is from the family of the Obolensky princes, my mother is a peasant from the Pskov region. The noble grandmother, having returned from Harbin with repatriates, spent 8 years in the camps. The second was dispossessed and deported to the Urals in 1929. One grandfather was shot by the Reds, the other died in exile. My father is a front-line soldier, awarded two Orders of Glory. Since her mother died early, Nina was raised by her grandmothers, who introduced the girl to faith, church singing and poetry from childhood.
Today Nina Vasilyevna is the initiator and presenter of the Evenings of Russian Spiritual Culture at the International Slavic Center, programs on Radio Radonezh and People's Radio, the program "Pure Image" on the Soyuz TV channel, a member of the board of the International Foundation of Slavic Literature and Culture, Orthodox Russian Academy, the central council of the movement "Orthodox Russia", member of the bureau of the Moscow branch of the SP of Russia, laureate of the Alexander Nevsky and Ivan Ilyin awards.
The theater, directed by Nina Vasilievna, is already 22 years old. And every month his small but very creative troupe holds evenings from the “Word to Glory” series. Before the performance began, Nina Vasilievna shared her joy - this day began in the monastery with Holy Communion - and then lovingly introduced her colleagues and spiritually close friends: Honored Artist of Russia singer Galina Mitrofanova and young pianist, laureate of international competitions Olga Domnina. The theater does not receive the attention of the big press and “literary officials,” like all patriotic Russian poetry, but “Thank God for everything.” All these years, evenings in the mansion of the Foundation of Slavic Literature and Culture, where classical music and high poetry are heard, have not lost their appeal to the public; the hall is always full.
Nina Kartasheva prefaced her story about the holy martyr Seraphim Chichagov with the poem “Prophet” by Mikhail Lermontov, whose 200th birthday was recently celebrated. Hieromartyr Seraphim Chichagov entered Nina Vasilievna’s life through Irina Vladimirovna Lermontova, who belonged to the descendants of this large aristocratic family. She introduced the poetess to her relative, the granddaughter of Metropolitan Seraphim, Varvara Vasilievna Chernaya. The biography of this amazing woman is widely known today. An outstanding Soviet chemist, she became a monk during the years of perestroika. Abbess Seraphima headed the rebuilding Novodevichy Convent and was its abbess from 1994 to 1999. And Nina Vasilievna met Mother Seraphima (Chernaya-Chichagova) when she was still modestly working behind a candle box in the Church of Elijah the Ordinary.
Among the musical works, the first to be performed was a romance based on the poems of Nina Kartashova “Before the Icon”. More than once those gathered in the living room listened to Nina Vasilievna’s poems, this was expected. What was surprising was the acquaintance with the work of the holy martyr Seraphim himself. Vladyka, in the world Leonid Mikhailovich Chichagov, was not only a brilliant officer (hero of the Russian-Crimean War) and a talented military scientist - he wrote a textbook on artillery that was popular in his time. He was also a doctor - he independently studied and successfully practiced homeopathy - and an artist. The icon of the Savior in a white tunic that he painted has been preserved; it is now in the Church of Elijah the Ordinary. In addition, he wrote spiritual poetry and music.
The future hieromartyr had a deep, active faith. The history of his adoption of holy orders is impressive. Feeling the nihilism permeating the consciousness of his contemporaries and the approaching revolution, he decided to show society that the nobles were responsible for the common people. The decision to become a priest crossed out not only Leonid Mikhailovich’s successful military career and changed his position in society, but also radically changed the life of his entire family. This was a transition to another, lower, at that time, class - the spiritual. His wife, who came from a noble aristocratic family, became a priest, and his children were deprived of their nobility.
Nina Vasilievna said that Leonid Mikhailovich’s wife Natalia Nikolaevna died early, from diphtheria. This happened in Diveyevo, where she was buried. but the grave is unknown, since the ancient cemetery has not survived. In its place there is now a football field. According to the poetess, “it’s painful and bad, it’s our shame.” Nina Vasilyevna proposed erecting a worship cross in memory of the humble wife of Bishop Seraphim. For her part, Nina Kartasheva undertakes to find funds to make the cross and deliver it from Moscow. And the poetess turned to the Diveyevo community with a request to convince the authorities to allocate a place for its installation.
After the death of his wife, Leonid Chichagov became a monk, became a bishop, and in 1928 - Metropolitan of Leningrad. He ended his life at the Butovo training ground. The soldiers carried him, an eighty-one-year-old man, sick and weak, to the place of execution on a stretcher. He was buried in one of the ditches of the landfill, in a mass grave. Canonized as a saint by the Russian Orthodox Church in 1997. It is known that after the bishop wrote the chronicle of the Seraphim-Diveyevo Monastery and the life of the venerable elder, the saint appeared to him and said: “Whatever you want, ask me, everything will be given to you.” And the bishop answered: “I want one thing, father, - to be with you!” It is certain that today the two Saint Seraphims are side by side.
The vocal works of Hieromartyr Seraphim Chichagov were performed: “Why doubt the Holy Love?”, “Sorrowful Tale”, “Oh sun, light a light for me...”, “Mystery”, “The soul is exhausted”. The bishop wrote poetry and music for himself, but they also became his sermon. The Bishop gathered the flock and conducted conversations. Until her old age, her granddaughter, Abbess Seraphima, recalled with excitement and gratitude how she visited her grandfather’s dacha near the Udelnaya station as a girl. In the evenings, my grandfather sat down at the harmonium and composed sacred music. Listening, she was imbued with a sense of grace emanating from him. According to people who knew Abbess Seraphim, including Nina Kartasheva, Mother herself was full of grace. She had wonderful manners, simple and graceful. She was an aristocrat not only by birth, but a real aristocrat in spirit. “There are no such people today,” says Nina Vasilievna, “they were people of the old noble culture. I remember my grandmother too. We are no longer like them, unfortunately. We have been subjected to environmental terror. May God grant you and all of us to live such a life as Mother Serafima Chichagova and Hieromartyr Seraphim Chichagov.”
By the providence of God, the master’s notes came to Galina Mitrofanova, who lives in the Moscow region, not far from Udelnaya. Having deciphered the manuscripts of the holy martyr Seraphim, she became the first performer of his works, and today there are already many of them.
We have touched with you the spiritual world of a holy man, his shrine. Artist, doctor, military scientist, historian... An amazing person, a genius. We are the legal heirs of this glory, Russian glory. And this year marks the 700th anniversary of our Father Sergius the Reverend. And we pray to him as our relative, as the abbot of the Russian Land.
Let our speech be a confusion of languages.
And life is like an unreliable mansion.
But if you hear the bells ringing,
After all, we are still at home!
And next to the mansions there is a temple, forever and ever!
I will touch my land with my sinful forehead,
I will touch with my lips the ancient pure speech,
Let me remind you how under St. Sergius
People prayed and candles burned.
Let's pray before the thunder strikes.
How low the clouds go above the ground!
How close the menacing breath is again...
And to the feast of the secret ruling Judases
Peoples are preparing for the slaughter...
The literary evening ended with the performance of “Monologue of the Princess-Martyr Tatiana” to the verses of Nina Kartasheva and music by composer Sergei Simeonov, since Nina Vasilievna has been very close to the royal theme since childhood:
By the grace of God, I was born in the place of exile of my grandmothers - in Verkhoturye. This is a holy place. Then it's all camps. Today the monastery, where there used to be a children's colony, has been returned to the Church and the relics of St. Simeon of Verkhoturye rest in it. The Intercession Monastery was also returned - it housed the city bathhouse, and the Trinity Cathedral, where I went as a music school. The Urals are Golgotha. And not only for the Royal Family, but for the entire Russian people. My grandmother brought me as a little girl at night to the house of engineer Ipatiev. On church holidays, church chants could be heard from the basement, and blood stains appeared on the walls. They were painted over, but they showed up again. This is evidenced by non-disclosure receipts stored in the KGB archives.
Saying goodbye to the audience, Nina Kartasheva wished everyone the grace of God and said that she would gladly come again and again to this holy land of Diveyevo. And having learned that a temple was being built in Sarov in honor of the Holy Royal Passion-Bearers, she expressed hope that the Literary Theater of the Foundation of Slavic Literature and Culture would be able to perform a program dedicated to the Royal Family before the residents of Sarov.
On October 19, 1939, 70 years ago, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich KLYKOV, an outstanding Russian sculptor, People's Artist of Russia, was born
The ancient beauty of Chersonesus. The dome of the sky seems to be opened inward and pours dewy, fresh azure directly into the soul. The Black Sea was once called the Russian Sea. Here, in Korsun, Vladimir, the Grand Duke of Holy Rus', was baptized. Rus', of course, and not Ukraine, because Ukraine is Rus'. As a statement of this, the monument to the baptist prince stands unshakably here, looking into the blue expanse confidently and boldly. The author of the monument is immediately recognizable - Vyacheslav Klykov. We are recognizable not only by their artistic manner, but also by their sovereign, Orthodox spirit. And I, bowing to the prince, feel the living presence of Vyacheslav Mikhailovich here. The same is true in Irkutsk, where Admiral A.V. Kolchak was sculpted by Klykov as a testament to stop all civil war, visible and invisible. There are no whites and reds. Is there russians in here. And in Murom stands the formidable saint Ilya the Bogatyr, created by Klykov in bronze - the people's strength and might. He also created monuments to Shukshin, Svyatoslav the Brave, Seraphim of Sarov, Nadezhda Plevitskaya, Tsar-Passion-Bearer Nicholas II, Princess Olga, P.A., Stolypin. Our great contemporary V.M. Klykov went to them, to another world, in 2006. The acute pain of loss in us gradually subsided and was replaced by an undying and eternal feeling...
Yes, the man, friend and comrade-in-arms is no longer with us, we will no longer hear his apt, cheerful words, no one will gather us on a friendly trip, no one will so bravely, loudly call the enemy of Russia by name, no one will help us in a difficult moment in life. . In human terms, we are orphans. But Klykov’s spiritual, creative field acquired a stronger attraction. It has become a classic. It has become popular. There are already legends about Klykov among the people. In his homeland, in Marmyzhi, there is the Klykovsky Museum. In Kursk there is an avenue named after Klykov and a monument to him... And songs are sung about Klykov. He deserved it. He was loved. He had weaknesses and made human mistakes. The one who does nothing makes no mistakes. But in the life of the spirit he was absolutely precise and true: God, the Russian people, Russia, the Russian Tsar. For this we all loved him, even when we sometimes quarreled with him. And he loved us. But this is the most important thing, this is what the Fatherland is now depleted of, which is the reason for all our troubles and humiliation before strangers. Russians have almost stopped loving each other. Indifference, money-grubbing, envy. The well-fed cannot understand the hungry. Words have no value, because behind words there is no action.
Klykov was generous because he was gifted by God! He could appreciate the talent of another person, understand him, and sincerely admire him. It was enough for everything: the International Foundation of Slavic Literature and Culture, the Zemsky Sobor, the Union of the Russian People, the Cossacks. And everywhere he is a leader, leader, warrior and worker.
Go to the house of the Slavic Foundation in Chernigovsky Lane Zamoskvorechya - everything here “breathes” Klykov. Here is an old oak tree in the courtyard, on a pedestal for the ground, with a copy of the monument to St. Sergius of Radonezh, bas-reliefs on the walls of the mansion: St. Seraphim of Sarov, St. Equal-to-the-Apostles Cyril and Methodius, St. Tsarevich Alexy, St. Vel. book Elisaveta. Busts of Bunin, Stolypin, Tsar Nikolai Alexandrovich. And on the third floor there is a huge bust of Vyacheslav Klykov himself, made by his student and son of Klykov Jr., Andrey.
Evenings and concerts of Russian spirituality and culture, artist exhibitions, lectures and meetings are held here. Life goes on. Some things work out the Klykov way, some things don’t work out. The union of the Russian people, alas, is in splits. The monarchist movement, if it moves at all, is sluggish and uninteresting. And this is only because Russians lack love for each other. This is skillfully used by the enemies of Russia and the enemies of God. There is no shortage of them. They are united in hatred, but we are divided in dislike, we do not even have condescension towards each other in small matters and adherence to principles in big matters. Souls were crushed, pathos, noble impulses became incomprehensible and ridiculous...
And life is short. Companions leave. Documentary filmmaker N.F. Ryapolov, who made talented films about Klykov, Sviridov, and Plevitskaya, has died. He was a simple and modest man, who loved Vyacheslav Mikhailovich. Rest in peace. Died this year, on “Tsar’s Day,” July 17, a fiery resident of Nizhny Novgorod, Klykov’s comrade-in-arms in the Union of the Russian People, patriot V. F. Kalentyev - at 60 years old, at the age of wise courage, he is already in another world. And each of us will not escape death. We will all stand before God.
How can we justify it? After all, you can write 20 books or artistic canvases, erect hundreds of monuments, make dozens of films, but if there is no love in them for the Fatherland, for your people, for your neighbor, they will only bear the poisonous fruits of disbelief and cold selfishness. It's like a beautifully painted coffin, but there's a corpse in it. If there is love in creativity or in any work, in being, it gives birth to heroes on whom Holy Rus' and Great Russia stood. And only in this can the human soul find its place in Eternal Life. The commandment given to us by the Lord is: “Love one another.” Klykov performed it.
What about us who remain on earth? How do we live with each other? Do we help each other? Are we comforting? Or do we speak well only about those who are no longer in this world, and condemn the rest? We are all great critics, but what good have we done? What I mean is that the “great critics” who used to speak badly of Klykov now seem to regret him, saying that without Klykov everything in the Slavic Fund was not the same - the exhibitions are not the same, and the artists are not the same , and the audience is not these...
Stop “fizzle and oxidize” because it’s not true! First of all, we are always with Klykov. Secondly, we are working, and thirdly, the people’s love for our Slavic Fund is not cooling, and it is mutual. This is the memory of Vyacheslav Mikhailovich.
And not only here in Moscow. On the Prokhorovsky field, the field of glory of Russia, there is a majestic monument to our Victory. And now, next to it, a monument to its author, V.M. Klykov, was erected through the efforts and care of Governor Evgeniy Stepanovich Savchenko. In the Belgorod region they know how to preserve the memory of Russian glory. And about the worthy son of the Russian people, Klykov.
At Kursk State University there is the Church of St. Equal-to-the-Apostles Methodius and Cyril, it was designed and helped to build by V. M. Klykov. Students there become familiar with eternity and know the great sculptor as a classic of Russian art. In Belgorod there are even sports competitions in kickboxing for the Prince's Cup. Svyatoslav, dedicated to V.M. Klykov. He was a great athlete.
The memory of V.M. Klykov is preserved and perpetuated by friends, associates and especially his fellow Kursk residents. Kursk has a wonderful governor, a patriot and a hard worker. And the spiritual authorities in this city fulfill Christ’s commandment about love not in words, but in deeds. After all, the holy elders said that without love, power is violence, and creativity without love degenerates into demonic possession.
Now we all see with our own eyes what a feat of love for God and Motherland Klykov accomplished, what a wonderful, albeit difficult life he lived. Direct, open, honest, did not tolerate duplicity and cowardice. On October 19, 2009, he would have turned 70 years old. I could still live. But he accomplished everything in this earthly life. It took place for Eternity and became the glory of Russia, like Pushkin, Nesterov, Sviridov.
And finally, so that the memory will be closer to your heart, while leafing through my diaries, I will choose a small sketch from everyday life. 90s. Slavic center. I am sitting and reading an article in the newspaper about the false royal remains.
- Nina, what are you reading?
- Yes, Vyacheslav Mikhailovich, Radzinsky. Writes...
- Nina, better read “May God Rise Again” aloud! - And I read this prayer out loud (and now too!).
Nina Vasilievna KARTASHOVA
"TOMORROW". Nina Vasilievna, you are a poetess, whose work is largely devoted to the fate and purpose of the Russian woman. You are a public figure with an independent view of what is happening in the country and in the world. Now the topic is Turkey, where there is such a category of citizens as former Russian women - “Turkish” wives, Russian women who married Turks. In connection with the Russian-Turkish conflict, they are worried about their safety. They are worried that the worsening international political situation will affect them. I have read about this in the press more than once. Do you think Russia should provide legal support and protection to these women?
Nina KARTASHOVA. Let them not consider me a prude, let them not consider me a cruel person, but I believe that these women should not be helped. They abandoned their nation and homeland. “Love your neighbor as yourself,” says the Gospel. Near, but not far! The Gospel does not abolish either nationality or homeland. We are brothers and sisters in Christ. But these women converted to Islam. Let them reap the fruits of their renunciation, let them evaluate the consequences of their action.
Maybe deep down I sympathize with these lost people, but I believe that Russia should, first of all, take care of its citizens - not trample on their rights, and provide assistance. There are so many poor people here, suffering, and the state will deal with other people’s citizens...
If I fell in love with a representative of another race, a person of a different faith, I would suppress this feeling.
I once visited Turkey, Cappadocia, the homeland of St. Nina, in whose honor I was baptized. Here this ascetic was born into the family of a Roman military leader. I considered it my duty to visit her native land. I remember I was dressed in a long dress - more precisely, a linen sundress down to my toes and had my head covered - in a hat. The Turks treated me with respect and addressed me as “khanum.” There were flocks of Russian girls walking around, dressed very openly - in shorts, almost naked. The Turks, with ironic smiles, called them “Natashas” - unfortunately, a good Christian name has become synonymous with the word “prostitute.” This is how they behave.
Yes, some Turks marry Russians, but this is not happy either. Once I was traveling on a train with a former Russian woman, a Turkish wife. The woman was sleek, fashionably dressed, wearing expensive jewelry. She talked about how much time she devotes to taking care of herself, visiting cosmetologists, getting manicures and pedicures every week - which she could not afford in Russia. There was a little girl with her - dark, who did not know Russian. Her daughter.
Thus, our nation is being eroded, we are losing our breed. I remember what Slavic beauties I saw in Pskov - slender, fair-haired. They have regular facial features, a high forehead, and a long neck. But there are fewer and fewer of them.
I have a poem: “Why did you marry strangers, daughters?..”
I understand that some Russian women fled to Turkey from poverty. In search of a carefree, prosperous life. But what will it turn out to be now?..
We will live without this, we will not leave Russia, and the Lord will not leave us.
P.S. Dozens of forums dedicated to Turkey have “Turkish Love” sections, and within those sections there are many topics with stories about short holiday romances. It happens that topics are dedicated personally to men, insidious seducers, many of whom have been married and abandoned.
Here is a typical case, says a young teacher: “Yusuf so wanted to be only with me! He said: I love you, don’t torment me, I only need you, I don’t need anyone else, he begged for a response. It got into my soul and I gave up.
This is where the fun began. He allegedly had some problems with the law. But there is salvation - pay a fine, $2,300. He tormented me every day, begged me for help, begged, swore that he would return everything, that he would not abandon me, honest... He pressed me on the fact that his daughter was growing up without a mother and would not see her father for a long time. He said: you love me, help me, you must understand me...
Thank God, the bank refused me a loan. I was so worried that I couldn’t help. In the end, he decided everything, someone lent him... Later he begged for a tablet for his birthday, he “really, really needed it for work”...
I found out the whole truth three months later. A girl wrote to me, who, as it turned out, helped him with money and brought him a tablet. Yusuf asked for everything as a loan, promised to return everything to her, saying that this was the sacred duty of a man.
In general, he also cheated her on her feelings, although he said that he was simply divorced, and not a widower... She came to see him in Turkey and found out that he was actually married, his wife was alive and well, his financial situation was difficult , this is how he deceives fools, gains their trust, and then uses them, playing on human kindness and feelings.
You can’t even imagine what happened to me... a nervous breakdown... I ended up in the hospital... I had a hard time being deceived.”
Or “I met mine in Kemer. He also said that he loved me, and suddenly I found out that I was pregnant. He said he didn’t want children, but I didn’t have an abortion and now I have a baby, she’s already five months old. And this goat doesn’t believe that she’s from him!”
It seems that there is a kind of psychological dependence - Turkomania of Russian women. Hundreds, thousands go far away to sleep with the Turks.
But what should we do now with those former compatriots who were not abandoned and deceived, but, on the contrary, legitimized the relationship? What should Russian diplomats in Turkey do if such people in headscarves with little Turks come running to their embassy and ask to be saved and taken to their former homeland? I personally think that they need to be protected and taken out if the situation becomes even more complicated. After all, it is now customary to say: Russians do not abandon their own...
