What I have to say. Alexander Vertinsky, “What I have to say Vertinsky who sent them to death

My first meeting with this poem - or, if anyone wants, a romance - took place on the ruins of the historical center of Tula, at the very beginning of the main street of this ancient Russian city, which at one time was called Kievskaya, then became Kommunarov Street, and at that time was already called Lenin Avenue. No one really knew what the regional authorities were up to this time, but several blocks of old Tula were literally turned into ruins in a very short time. The ruins produced an eerie, never-before-experienced feeling of some kind of collapse of the old world. Above them, open spaces and perspectives opened up, which until then were almost impossible to imagine and which were breathtaking. A gusty wind feverishly flipped through the pages of several antique-looking books scattered here and there among the broken bricks.

I picked up one of them that was lying at my feet - it was some kind of ancient songbook, with ers and yats - and read on the open page the title of Alexander Vertinsky’s romance: “What I have to say.”

I don’t know why and who needs this, Who sent them to death with an unshaking hand, Only so mercilessly, so evilly and unnecessaryly They lowered them into eternal peace. Cautious spectators silently wrapped themselves in fur coats, And some woman with a distorted face Kissed the dead man on his blue lips And threw a wedding ring at the priest. They showered them with Christmas trees, kneaded them with mud, and went home to talk loudly, saying that it was time to put an end to the disgrace, and that soon, they say, we would begin to starve. And no one thought of just kneeling down and telling these boys that in a mediocre country, even bright exploits are only steps into endless abysses towards an inaccessible spring! I don’t know why and who needs this, Who sent them to death with an unshaking hand, Only so mercilessly, so evilly and unnecessaryly They lowered them into eternal peace.

The event, under the impression of which Vertinsky wrote these lines, can be dated absolutely precisely - Moscow, November 13 (26, 2017). It was on that day in the Church of the Great Ascension at the Nikitsky Gate, where Pushkin and Natalie were once married, very close to the “student” Bolshaya and Malaya Bronnaya streets, that the same funeral service took place.

Cautious spectators silently wrapped themselves in fur coats, And some woman with a distorted face Kissed the dead man on his blue lips And threw a wedding ring at the priest. They threw Christmas trees at them, kneaded them with mud...

The funeral service was led by Metropolitan Evlogii (Georgievsky), who was asked to do so by the newly elected (a week before) Patriarch Tikhon. This is how Metropolitan Evlogy recalls that day in his book “The Path of My Life” (Paris, 1947):

I remember the difficult picture of this funeral service. There are open coffins in rows... The whole temple is filled with them, only in the middle there is a passage. And they rest in coffins, - like cut flowers, - young, beautiful, just blossoming lives: cadets, students... Mothers, sisters, brides crowd around the dear remains... In the funeral “word” I pointed out the evil irony of fate: the youth who sought political freedom fought so ardently and sacrificially for it, was ready even for acts of terror - she became the first victim of a dream come true…

The funeral took place in terrible weather. Wind, sleet, slush... All the streets adjacent to the church were packed with people. It was a public funeral. The coffins were carried in the hands of volunteers from the crowd...

The Junckers and student volunteers were buried far outside the city, at the Fraternal Memorial Cemetery for Victims of the World War. In fact, they became the very first “White Guards”, that is, those who attached white ribbons to their clothes - young opponents of the October Bolshevik coup.

I don’t know why and who needs this, Who sent them to death with an unshaking hand...

And I also don’t know who Alexander Nikolaevich was hinting at here. The resistance to the Bolshevik detachments was led in Moscow by the mayor Vadim Rudnev and the commander of the Moscow Military District, Colonel Konstantin Ryabtsev. Both of them are socialists, Socialist Revolutionaries, comrades-in-arms of Kerensky. Indeed, one might get the impression that both of them were thinking in those days not so much about suppressing the rebellion, but about the quickest surrender of the city to the Bolsheviks - even at the cost of the death of the most passionate supporters of the Provisional Government... I remember the very correct thought of the Moscow cultural expert Rustam Rakhmatullin, aphoristically expressed by him in a 2001 Novomir article:

...In Moscow in 1917, October fought with February. White was the Russia of February and the Restoration at the same time. Therefore, the Moscow of the Arbat was white, where two principles were reconciled - the intellectual and the elite-military, irreconcilable before February. Mayor Rudnev and Colonel Ryabtsev personified this union. Despite the fact that both were children of February, Socialist Revolutionaries of different shades. Illegal force was opposed by pseudo-legal force in the absence of legal force, which they threw together. The military elite of the non-existent legitimate government chose the lesser of two evils.

In the absence of legitimate power, the earth splits along ancient cracks, and two incompletenesses, like the new oprichnina and zemshchina, argue for the right to extend themselves to the whole.

Illegal force was opposed by pseudo-legal... Socialist Rudnev left Russia at the height of the Civil War; he died in France shortly after its occupation by Nazi Germany. Socialist Ryabtsev, after serving three weeks in prison, was released by the Bolsheviks and after some time ended up in Kharkov, where he was engaged in journalistic work in local publications. In June 1919, during a broad offensive against Moscow, Kharkov was occupied by units of the Volunteer Army under the command of Lieutenant General Vladimir Zenonovich May-Maevsky - the same “His Excellency” who had the “adjutant” known from the Soviet film. Konstantin Ryabtsev was arrested by counterintelligence and about a month later killed “while trying to escape”...

This announcement appeared in the Kharkov newspaper “New Russia” on June 22 (July 5, New Style) - just when former Colonel Ryabtsev was already in Denikin’s counterintelligence:

On that summer day, anti-Bolshevik Kharkov enthusiastically greeted the Commander-in-Chief of the Armed Forces of the South of Russia, Lieutenant General Anton Ivanovich Denikin. In the evening of that day, Alexander Vertinsky had to introduce the Kharkov residents to his “song for the death of the White Guards,” and in the morning a military parade took place in Kharkov on the occasion of the arrival of the commander-in-chief: the Drozdovites, Belozerstsy, Kuban residents marched... This is how it was:

From the Address of General Denikin “To the Population of Little Russia” (according to the text published in the Kharkov newspaper “New Russia” dated August 14 (27), 1919):

...Wanting to weaken the Russian state before declaring war on it, the Germans, long before 1914, sought to destroy the unity of the Russian tribe, forged in a difficult struggle.

To this end, they supported and fanned a movement in the south of Russia that set itself the goal of separating its nine provinces from Russia, under the name of the “Ukrainian State.” The desire to tear away the Little Russian branch of the Russian people from Russia has not been abandoned to this day...

However, from the treasonous movement aimed at the division of Russia, it is necessary to completely distinguish activity inspired by love for the native land, for its characteristics, for its local antiquity and its local folk language.

In view of this the basis for the organization of the regions of the South of Russia will be the beginning of self-government and decentralization with indispensable respect for the vital characteristics of local life.

Declaring Russian as the state language throughout Russia, I consider it completely unacceptable and prohibit the persecution of the Little Russian folk language. Everyone can speak Little Russian in local institutions, zemstvos, public places and in court…

Likewise, there will be no restrictions regarding the Little Russian language in the press...

A constitutional democrat in his political views, Anton Ivanovich Denikin supported the February Revolution of 1917, but very soon became a decisive opponent of the socialist Provisional Government and openly supported the rebellion of General Kornilov.

In national politics, Denikin was a staunch supporter of the idea of ​​a united and indivisible Russia. In terms of his personal qualities, he was a deeply decent person; he remained a Russian patriot until the end of his life and had no intention of changing his citizenship of the Russian Empire. During the Great Patriotic War, Anton Ivanovich Denikin resolutely rejected all German proposals for cooperation. Separating Russia itself from the Bolsheviks, he called on the Russian emigration to unconditionally support the Red Army. There are indications that in 1943, Denikin, using his personal funds, collected and sent a carload of medicines to help the Red Army. After the victory over Germany, Stalin did not demand that the allies hand over their former enemy.

Anton Ivanovich Denikin died of a heart attack in August 1947; in October 2005, his ashes were solemnly reburied on the territory of the Donskoy Monastery...

They showered them with Christmas trees, kneaded them with mud, and went home to talk loudly, saying that it was time to put an end to the disgrace, and that soon, they say, we would begin to starve.

At the end of 1917, when Alexander Vertinsky wrote these lines, everything that was happening around, indeed, could seem to “cautious spectators” to be just an annoying “disgrace.” But how good, how joyful everything worked out in February!

Everything happened not as expected, but quickly, as if in a movie, in a fairy tale or in a dream.

Dad, a prominent official who held a good position and was waiting any day to be appointed governor, came home one day beaming and enthusiastic and told his wife and children that a “great, bloodless” revolution had taken place.

Everyone has been impatiently and passionately waiting for this for a long time. The Pope spoke eloquently and even inspiredly about the imminent victory over the “primordial” formidable enemy, about a free army, about the freedom of the people, about the great future destinies of Russia, about the rise of people’s well-being and education, about the State Duma committee that has assumed power, about Rodzianko, etc. . P.

This is how the story of the writer Ivan Rodionov “Evening Sacrifices” begins. Ivan Rodionov was not only a talented writer (at one time it was hypothesized that he was the real author of Sholokhov’s “Quiet Don”), but also a monarchist-minded Cossack officer. During the World War, Ivan Rodionov, like Denikin, fought in the troops of General Brusilov - all together they then took part in the famous “Brusilov breakthrough”.

Of these three, only he refused to swear allegiance to the Provisional Government. But none of them was sad about the collapse of this Provisional Government. Ivan Rodionov ended the Civil War as a colonel and lived out his life in exile (the story “Evening Victims” was published in 1922 in Berlin). General Brusilov resigned in the summer of 1917; during the October battles between the Red Guards and cadets, he was in Moscow and was even accidentally slightly wounded. At the very end of the Civil War, the former general began to actively cooperate with the high command of the Red Army...

And in February it all started very fun. Everyone unanimously and quickly renounced the old world, and quickly shook off its ashes from their feet. There was jubilation in the streets, large industrialists, military generals and even grand dukes put red bows on themselves and sang “Marseillaise” in unison. It seemed that now, when they had thrown out the completely rotten tsarist regime, now it would come, the real flowering of everything and everyone!..

“Everyone has been impatiently and passionately waiting for this for a long time,” writes Rodionov. The most educated, the most democratic, the most reasonable strata of Russian society brought these February days closer as soon as they could. In intellectual circles it was considered almost indecent to refrain from unrestrained criticism of the government. It seemed that if you close your eyes, then open your eyes, everything will remain the same, only this three-hundred-year-old dynasty will no longer exist. It seemed like nothing. Well, it won't and won't. It seemed like if you take out a brick, the wall won’t collapse...

Didn’t we feel the same way in 1991? But didn’t the residents of Ukraine feel the same way at the beginning of 2014?.. “Illegal force was opposed by pseudo-legal force in the absence of legal force, which they lumped together.”.

And it suddenly turned out that the state is like a living organism, which, of course, has its own skeleton - a legal skeleton. It is relatively easy to break the bones of this skeleton - but then is it any wonder that these bones then grow together over time, and difficultly, and crookedly...

The February fun ended very quickly. The most educated, democratic and reasonable strata of Russian society, the most intelligentsia circles, as well as great philosophers, major industrialists, military generals and grand dukes were the first to go under the knife.

And some kind of burning shame, and terrible disappointment, and resentment, and a desperate attempt to “put on a beautiful face” of understanding everything in the face of a complete lack of understanding of what is happening - all this was expressed in the final stanza of the poem by Alexander Vertinsky:

“A mediocre country,” like “unwashed Russia,” are the favorite themes of the Russian liberal intelligentsia, disappointed in its own people, this is its attribute, its birthmark and its curse. Historical experience, alas, shows that disappointment sets in among Russian liberals with enviable regularity. Some kind of fatal “dissimilarity of characters,” by God. There is nothing like this anywhere else in the world. Dostoevsky in his novel “The Idiot” sensed a terrible danger at the very beginning:

...Russian liberalism is not an attack on the existing order of things, but is an attack on the very essence of our things, on the things themselves, and not on the order alone, not on the Russian order, but on Russia itself. My liberal has gone so far as to deny Russia itself, that is, he hates and beats his mother. Every unfortunate and unfortunate Russian fact excites laughter and almost delight in him.… Not so long ago, some of our liberals almost took this hatred of Russia for true love for the fatherland and they boasted that they saw better than others what it should consist of; But now they have become more frank and even the words “love of the fatherland” have become ashamed, even the concept was expelled and eliminated as harmful and insignificant... There cannot be such a liberal anywhere who would hate his own fatherland.

Historically, it so happened that from its very inception the so-called. Russian liberalism stood with one foot “here” and the other foot “there”. Utterly vulgar in his arrogance, full of complexes and internally flawed, the domestic liberal - in relatively calm historical periods - never knew doubts and always knew “how to do it.” The people always seemed to him to be something like plasticine, from which one can and should sculpt all sorts of beautiful figures. And when the next “modeling” ended in another tragedy, our talented sculptor blamed it not on himself, but on the “wrong plasticine.”

Here, for example, are the words used by one of the heroes of Ivan Rodionov’s story “Evening Sacrifices” to convey his own emotional anguish:

I had some ideals, and they were all without reserve disgusting, cruel, boorish, you understand, sister, boorish, somehow shameful desecrated and defeated by these very people. I hate and despise him. After all, in my eyes, what he has become. Who is he? This is a countless herd of thieves, murderers, cowards, alcoholics, degenerates, idiots, who have violated all divine and human laws, faith, God, the fatherland... But this is the only thing that creates and sustains life. Such people have no future. It's over. He is stinking human rubbish, and like rubbish he will be swept away from the face of the earth in due time. the punishing right hand of the Almighty. But these people were my god. After all, it’s scary and offensive, it’s offensive to the point of tears to remember this. This is such a drama...

Writer Ivan Rodionov, a Cossack colonel, nobleman and active figure in the white emigration, died in 1940 in the capital of Nazi Germany.

One of his sons, Vladimir, was the rector of the Church of the Resurrection of Christ in Zurich for almost half a century, becoming at the end of his life the archbishop of the Russian Orthodox Church.

His other son, Yaroslav, a poet and journalist, wrote the text of the famous pre-war “Song of the Moscow Cab Driver”: “But the metro came with oak railings, // He immediately bewitched all the riders...”— everyone has probably heard this song performed by Leonid Utesov. Yaroslav Rodionov died under German bombs in 1943...

...And tell these boys that in a mediocre country...

The final stanza of the poem is completely false and consists entirely of cliches common at that time. One of them is the notorious “boys”. The essence of the matter was perfectly stated by General Turkul in his memoirs “Drozdovtsy on Fire”:

The volunteer boys I’m trying to talk about are perhaps the most tender, beautiful and sad thing in the image of the White Army. I always looked at such volunteers with a feeling of pity and silent shame. No one felt sorry for them as much as they did, and it was a shame for all the adults that such boys were doomed with us to bloodshed and suffering. Piteous Russia also threw children into the fire. It was like a sacrifice…

...Hundreds of thousands of adults, healthy, big people did not respond, did not move, did not go. They crawled along the rear, fearing only for their, at that time, still well-fed human skin.

And the Russian boy went into the fire for everyone. He sensed that we had truth and honor, that the Russian shrine was with us. The whole future Russia came to us, because it was they, the volunteers - these schoolchildren, high school students, cadets, realists - who were supposed to become the creative Russia that follows us. All future Russia defended itself under our banners...

Whoever youth follows, follows the truth. Anton Turkul, the last commander of the Drozdov division, was by no means a liberal. And he knew very well who exactly - and on both sides - with a “quivering hand” sent the “boys” to their deaths.

The last commander of the Drozdov division was not a liberal; rather, in his hatred of the Bolsheviks, he sympathized with Nazism. Dividing people along ethnic lines is, of course, disgusting. But just as disgusting is any other division of them, based on hatred and arrogance - national or social. After all, they come to the same thing: someone will turn out to be a useless “cattle”, and someone will turn out to be a valuable and bright “cattle”...

And no one thought of just kneeling down and telling these boys that in a mediocre country, even bright exploits are only steps into endless abysses towards an inaccessible spring!

And no one thought to just kneel... Alexander Nikolaevich is disingenuous here. Our enlightened elite has always and at all times adored - of course, if there were any cautious spectators nearby - they adored falling on their knees and repenting, repenting, repenting. For this, for that, for the fifth, for the tenth. And for the death of the “boys” with their bright exploits, and for the mediocre country. For a people that stinks of human rubbish, consisting entirely of degenerates and idiots. For steps and abysses, for spring and summer.

And no one thought of just kneeling...

What is especially striking is that those who least feel their personal guilt love to repent most of all. For millions of ruined destinies, for incalculable suffering, for hunger and death of the most ordinary and not at all “elite” people: just old people, just women and just children.

Cattle, after all... what does he want in life? He has life, he doesn’t have life - everything is one...

...The Fraternal Memorial Cemetery, where “these boys” were once buried, was opened in February 1915. It was created on the initiative of Grand Duchess Elizaveta Feodorovna, the founder of the Martha and Mary Convent (in July 1918, Elizaveta Feodorovna, along with several of her relatives and friends, was subjected to a painful death - they were thrown alive into a mine, where they died of hunger and wounds) .

By the beginning of 1917, about 18 thousand soldiers and officers of the Russian army, as well as several dozen sisters of mercy and doctors, had already been buried at the Fraternal Cemetery. In 1925, the cemetery was closed, and in the 30s it was liquidated. Later, a park was laid out on the territory of the cemetery, then - during the period of mass construction near the Sokol metro station - residential buildings, a cafe, a cinema, and attractions for children appeared there. Some irresponsible residents, despite the installed signs, continue to walk their dogs on the territory of the former cemetery...

And to finish... On the site of the ancient quarters demolished in the center of Tula, a few years later, a spacious and deserted Lenin Square was built (from which the now somewhat shortened Lenin Avenue quite naturally emanates - it is also the former Kommunar Street, it is also the former Kyiv Street). Instead of many small houses, one monumental House of Soviets was built on this new square with a large bronze monument to Lenin in front of it. Then, however, when new times came, the House of Soviets was reincarnated into the Tula “White House”. As for the monument to Lenin, as a recent examination showed, “there is no talk of deviations of the monument from the vertical axis yet.”

Alexander Vertinsky, “What I have to say.” Recorded in Berlin in 1930.

Alexander Vertinsky wrote the romance “What I Must Say” shortly after the October Revolution. At the end of 1917, text and sheet music versions of the song were published by the Moscow publishing house Progressive News. The lyrics stated that the song was dedicated to “Their blessed memory.”
At first there was no consensus about who this romance was dedicated to. Thus, Konstantin Paustovsky, who attended Vertinsky’s concert in Kyiv in 1918, suggested in his memoirs: “He sang about the cadets killed shortly in the village of Borshchagovka, about the young men sent to certain death against a dangerous gang.”
Regarding this song, full of sympathy for the enemies of the Bolsheviks, Alexander Vertinsky was summoned to the Cheka for an explanation. According to legend, Vertinsky then said: “It’s just a song, and then, you can’t forbid me to feel sorry for them!” To this they answered him: “We will have to, and we will forbid you to breathe!”
Soon Vertinsky went on tour to the southern cities of Russia. In Odessa, the White Guard general Yakov Slashchev met with him. He told Vertinsky how popular his song had become: “But with your song... my boys went to die! And it is still unknown whether this was necessary...”

I don’t know why and who needs this,
who sent them to death with an unshaking hand,
just so useless, so evil and unnecessary
lowered them into Eternal Peace.

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

They threw Christmas trees at them, threw mud at them
and went home to talk quietly,
that it's time to put an end to the disgrace,
that soon we will all begin to starve.

And no one thought to just kneel
and tell these boys that in a mediocre country,
even bright feats are only steps
into endless abysses towards inaccessible Spring.

Is history repeating itself?

Material taken from the Internet.

Reviews

Unfortunately, the scenarios are repeated.
Here are the predictions of Nostradamus: twin brothers.
Which? Hiroshima and Nagasaki? And you can still find pairs.
===
I remember I really wanted my grandmother to come to school
and told how she made the revolution :))))) She
lived in St. Petersburg.
It took her a long time to persuade her to tell me about it!
In the end, she said that she worked at a kiosk at the station
- sold newspapers and magazines. And they and the girls are there
they hid the cadets - poor frightened boys.
And their rifles were hidden under their skirts.
--
And so my hope was lost!

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I don't know why and who needs this,
Who sent them to death with an unshaking hand,
Only so merciless, so evil and unnecessary
They were lowered into Eternal Peace!

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

They showered them with fir trees and kneaded them with mud.
And they went home to talk quietly,
That it’s time to put an end to the disgrace,
That already soon, they say, we will begin to starve.

And no one thought to just kneel
And tell these boys that in a mediocre country
Even bright feats are only steps
Into endless abysses - towards inaccessible Spring!

Alexander Vertinsky wrote the romance “What I Must Say” shortly after the October Revolution. At the end of 1917, text and sheet music versions of the song were published by the Moscow publishing house Progressive News. The lyrics stated that the song was dedicated to “Their blessed memory.”

At first there was no consensus about who this romance was dedicated to. Thus, Konstantin Paustovsky, who attended Vertinsky’s concert in Kyiv in 1918, suggested in his memoirs: “He sang about the cadets killed shortly in the village of Borshchagovka, about the young men sent to certain death against a dangerous gang.”

In fact, the song was dedicated to the cadets who died in Moscow during the October armed uprising of 1917 and were buried in the Moscow Fraternal Cemetery. Vertinsky himself wrote about this in his memoirs: “Soon after the October events, I wrote the song “What I Must Say.” It was written under the impression of the death of the Moscow cadets, whose funeral I attended.”

Junkers defending the entrances to the Kremlin. 1917 Photo: oldmos.ru

Regarding this song, full of sympathy for the enemies of the Bolsheviks, Alexander Vertinsky was summoned to the Cheka for an explanation. According to legend, Vertinsky then said: “It’s just a song, and then, you can’t forbid me to feel sorry for them!” To this they answered him: “We will have to, and we will forbid you to breathe!”

Soon Vertinsky went on tour to the southern cities of Russia. In Odessa, the White Guard general Yakov Slashchev met with him. He told Vertinsky how popular his song had become: “But with your song... my boys went to die! And it is still unknown whether this was necessary...”

Despite the fact that the song was written at the beginning of the 20th century, it remains relevant to this day. Thus, during the years of perestroika, the romance was performed by Boris Grebenshchikov. Then the song was associated with the Afghan war. In 2005, at the rock festival in Chechnya, the romance “What I Must Say” was performed by Diana Arbenina. This song is also present in the repertoire of Valery Obodzinsky, Zhanna Bichevskaya, Tatiana Dolgopolova and Pavel Kashin, Nadezhda Gritskevich. On February 20, 2014, Boris Grebenshchikov performed the romance at the Spring Concert in Smolensk, dedicating it to those killed at Euromaidan: “Today is a strange concert. All the time the thought does not leave me that at this very moment, when we are singing here, in Kyiv, very close to us, some people are killing others.”

Words: A. Vertinsky
Music: A. Vertinsky

I don't know why and who needs this,
Who sent them to death with an unshaking hand,
Only so merciless, so evil and unnecessary
They were lowered into Eternal Peace!

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

They showered them with fir trees and kneaded them with mud.
And they went home to talk quietly,
That it’s time to put an end to the disgrace,
That already soon, they say, we will begin to starve.

And no one thought to just kneel
And tell these boys that in a mediocre country
Even bright feats are only steps
Into the endless abysses - towards the inaccessible Spring!

October 1917
Moscow

There was much that was unclear about the events described in the song, and there were several versions of them. Thus, K. Paustovsky, who heard Alexander Nikolaevich’s concert in Kyiv in the winter of 1918, gives his own interpretation in his memoirs: “He sang about the cadets killed shortly in the village of Borshchagovka, about the young men sent to certain death against a dangerous gang.”
According to more common rumors, the song was created in Moscow in 1917 during the October days of the Bolshevik revolution, and it talks about Muscovite cadets who became victims of this event.

This version was also adhered to by the very famous playwright and theater critic of those years, I. Schneider. He wrote: “In the large Church of the Ascension on Nikitskaya, where Pushkin married Natalya Goncharova, there were 300 coffins and a funeral service was going on for the cadets who opposed the people and were killed on the streets of Moscow. They were buried in one of the Moscow cemeteries. Trams started running, shops and theaters opened. At the Petrovsky Theater of Miniatures, Vertinsky sang his new song every evening about these three hundred cadets and coffins.”

* * * * * * *

On the day the October Revolution began, October 25, 1917, a
benefit performance of Vertinsky. His attitude to the ongoing revolutionary events,
expressed in the romance “What I Must Say,” written under the impression
the death of three hundred Moscow cadets.
The romance aroused the interest of the Extraordinary Commission, where the author was summoned
for explanations. According to legend, when Vertinsky remarked to representatives of the Cheka:
“It’s just a song, and then, you can’t stop me from feeling sorry for them!”
he received the answer: “We will have to, and we will forbid you to breathe!” . .

Reviews

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I don’t know how to insert music... Include the link - the musical accompaniment gives me goosebumps.........

They were lowered into Eternal Peace.

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

They threw Christmas trees at them, threw mud at them
And they went home to talk quietly
That it's time to put an end to the disgrace,
That soon we will all begin to starve

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

I don't know why or who needs this.
Who sent them to death with an unshaking hand,
Only so mercilessly, so evil is not necessary
They were lowered into Eternal Peace...

A.N.Vertinsky
"What I have to say" (on the death of the cadets)
1917

So many wounded and dead, and for what - for the sake of the 2004 Constitution, which was then criticized by everyone and everything?! So that Yatsenyuk retains his opposition face by becoming prime minister? For the sake of bringing down Janek? Well, they should have waited a year and failed him in the elections! But we are not looking for easy ways: we prayed for Yushchenko for a year, then we were disappointed; chose his enemy to now die for his resignation

this is the truth.

Well, the war knocked on my door. A kind, bright boy who looked after my stepdaughter, and if she had not died tragically, would probably have become my kind of son-in-law, lost his hand on the Maidan. Good Maidan does not heal him. The evil Galya is treating her with money earned from the reactionary Internet resource "Versions".

What can I tell you, dear friends? This is a joke! The first victims were shocking. When there are a lot of them, it’s just statistics. Poor crazy health workers. They didn't sign up to work in hell. There are not enough hands and medicines. Everyone is dirty, bloody, everyone is in pain. Someone is screaming, someone is pissing themselves, sorry. They give me a list of medications... Well, I thought it was a list of Yanukovych’s sins.

The boy is half delirious. I ask:
-Durik, why did you get there...
- For Ukraine...
- Who did you vote for in the elections?
- I did not go...

Well, I didn’t go, because Yushchenko is a weakling, Yulia is not quite like that. As a result, Yanukovych was chosen, whom he is now overthrowing at the cost of his own hand. It is clear that when an arm has just been torn off, it is useless to continue political discussions. But how typical is this for us: to give the right to vote to someone else, and then sacrifice your life in order to challenge a choice that was not made by you!!!

I think how will he live if he survives? After all, everyday problems for a one-armed person last a lifetime. And in a month no one except him will remember his feat. And it won't help. Neither Yatsenyuk, nor Tyagnibok, nor Lutsenko, who, as Minister of the Ministry of Internal Affairs, made so much money that many seasoned cops are still surprised. But this child didn’t even have time to buy an apartment on credit.

I’m leaving the hospital, some Maidan self-defense members are trying to stop me and find out why I’m going. I'm a beast. I’m telling you, I brought your friend some money so that he could survive. And you covered his wound with a rag and took him to the ambulance.

To which they replied that this is war.

Well, here I was completely torn. I’m telling you, why are you fighting with yourself? Go to Mezhyhirya, burn it, turn the heads of ostriches. What, weak?!

They looked at me with the eyes of believers to whom they are trying to explain that there is no God. And I stopped the meaningless conversation. It was necessary to buy medicine and call the parents of this idiot so that they would come to nurse their revolutionary child...

You wanted peace at the cost of shame - you will get both shame and war.
(Winston Churchill after the Munich Agreements)

To the question of whether the means justify the high ends? Watching how the girls from the PR office were beaten and pushed, I remembered the enthusiastic opuses on FB about the knights of the Maidan. Here they are - knights, damn it! They wanted to overthrow Janek, but they got bandit partisanship. At both sides. The French Revolution also began sublimely, but ended with terror, the guillotine, blood and, ultimately, the restoration of the monarchy. Or not so?

Here's a truce for you! While Berkut was resting, several thousand “peaceful demonstrators” arrived from Lvov with a thousand guns, which they seized from the local SBU. And the cops started shooting at the adult.

The Cabinet was evacuated. The staff walks to Lesi Ukrainki Boulevard.

The Rada was also dissolved.

Do they allow change?

I have an inner feeling that the top of the special services are in a lot with the radicals. And for every bloody day, he receives additional extra-budgetary funding for operational needs, of which he immediately steals half (out of habit).

Otherwise, how can you explain that from Bessarbka you can bring whatever you want onto the Maidan - from tires to machine guns?

The Great French Revolution, Ukrainian version: first they will destroy the aristocrats, then the revolution will devour its children. As Danton said before his execution

Galina Akimova