Tamara Eidelman. "And the quick-witted Newtons..."

"And the quick-witted Newtons..."
Tamara Eidelman

Date of publication: September 19, 2000

In the Vologda region - peace and quiet, and God's grace. Few tourists visit the Kremlin. From time to time, groups of brave madmen go on a bus excursion to the Kirillovo-Belozersky Monastery . On the bank of the river stands an unfinished multi-storey hotel building - they began to build it when they hoped that the city would become a center of northern tourism . Now they say that it is cheaper to dismantle this colossus than to complete it. The Vologda authorities , however, are not too upset - they have their own value system. The main word in it is ethnic. The region, it turns out, is mono-ethnic, and the main ethnic characteristics of its population are kindness, community, traditionalism and rejection of bourgeois-individualistic market ideas. Gritting my teeth, I have to admit that this seems to be true. It is not clear how the land, which served as a place of exile for individualistic bullies from the entire Russian Empire, and then from the entire Soviet Union, managed to remain mono-ethnic, but, in any case, the exceptional goodwill of the Vologda residents, combined with their poverty, are visible to the naked eye.

So they live, enjoying traditional values, and suddenly, among this splendor, reminiscent of either an advertisement for Milaya Mila milk or Zlato butter, a certain troublemaker appears.

Alexander Vladimirovich Bykov - historian, specialist in the 17th century, began to live “not like everyone else” during perestroika. Bykov’s relationship with the local authorities became complicated when he, at that time an employee of the local cultural department, refused to transfer the museum icon of the “Zyryanskaya Mother of God” to the Komi Autonomous Soviet Socialist Republic. Today he explains this very simply: “There were four such icons, in Komi three of them were chopped up and burned - and they want us to give them the last one.” However, Alexander Vladimirovich did not put forward such arguments to his superiors - he said that they would soon give the icon back, and hid it away; after some time they forgot about it, so it remained in the Vologda Museum. Meanwhile, Bykov was offered to print several booklets on the history of Vologda. Instead of looking for a printing house that would undertake to fulfill the order, he carried out an operation that was probably only possible in our country. Just at this time, a certain timber processing enterprise acquired a risograph through barter, exchanging it for timber. Why they needed this device - no one knew, including, obviously, the managers of the enterprise. In any case, pretty soon they advertised that they were replacing it with a photocopier. Our hero took advantage of this, bought a photocopier, exchanged it for a risograph that cost ten times more, printed the booklets himself and made his first profit. Today Alexander Vladimirovich Bykov is the owner of a printing house, the income from which allows him to maintain the first private museum in Vologda. As you might guess, this whole story is completely atypical for leisurely Vologda. The museum created by Bykov is even more original. Its exhibition is dedicated to a very interesting, but little-known episode of our history. In 1918, the ambassadors of the Allied powers, fearing the capture of Petrograd by the Germans, moved to Vologda - away from both the Germans and the Bolsheviks. For six months, Vologda residents hosted Americans, British, French, Brazilians, Serbs, Italians, and Japanese. Let's say right away that this is not at all a homemade exhibition of an amateur enthusiast. The owner of the museum did not give up scientific activities for the sake of business - he did a lot of work in Russian archives, established connections with the descendants of foreign diplomats, and received materials from England, America, and France. The director of the archives of the city of Leeds did not want to send copies of the papers to the strange Russian. Bykov immediately contacted his American acquaintance, who easily received the documents and immediately sent them to Vologda. Alexander Vladimirovich took twenty-five kilograms of photocopies from the archives of the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs - just before the funds he was interested in were closed to foreigners. As a result, the scientist published several books on the history of the diplomatic corps in Vologda, which have two, unfortunately, not always adjacent qualities - scientific and fascinating. But if a person is “not like others,” this will manifest itself in absolutely everything. The Museum of the Diplomatic Corps in Vologda is as different from a “typical” museum as its owner is from a “typical” resident of Vologda. In two spacious halls of the museum, located in the building where the American ambassador once lived, many interesting exhibits are collected - rare photographs, letters, things of that era, an American flag with 48 stars, a unique poster that could have appeared only between the February and the October revolutions: “We welcome the great fraternal democracy!” - Uncle Sam holds the arm of a Mongoloid Russian soldier. In English it sounds even more touching: “Welcome big brother democracy!” ( Orwell is still thirty years away!).

In addition, there are excursions here in Russian, English and French, which is already unusual for our country, but in this case it is quite understandable: foreigners - from the descendants of the American ambassador to today's diplomats who specially come here from Moscow - are very interested in the museum. The material here is fascinating, and in combination with Alexander Vladimirovich’s colorful comments, it’s simply entrancing. What are his stories about the Odessa resident Rosenblum, who became the famous British spy Sidney Raleigh! You listen to them while looking at the photograph, which, as Bykov proved, exactly depicts this romantic James Bond (albeit, in the end he was shot by the Bolsheviks). And the numerous love interests of the sixty-seven-year-old American ambassador? And the hidden contempt of French and English diplomats towards this former businessman from St. Louis, who believed that in the opera “Eugene Onegin” “Pushkin himself sings”? And the difficulties associated with the fact that diplomats in a hurry left their alcohol reserves in Petrograd - and diplomatic receptions were under threat? It was necessary to send a special expedition to St. Petersburg and, with the help of the Norwegian ambassador, remove the seals from the caches in the American embassy and transport the whiskey to Vologda. I personally liked the image of the Brazilian chargé d'affaires Vianne Kelsha the most. This cheerful and charming man spent all his time playing poker, and made no secret of the fact that his principle was: “Do nothing - and a promotion is guaranteed.” In his youth, according to the memoirs of the famous British diplomat Robert Lockhart, Kelsch, who held a certain post at the embassy in London, worked for a long time on a project to develop trade in Brazilian coffee in England. For this he was demoted and transferred to the Balkans. Here he also worked tirelessly and sent a report on technical education in Germany to Rio de Janeiro. Things were heading towards the First World War - the unfortunate man was again demoted and driven into cold Russia. It was then that he realized what the shortest path to rewards was. Vianna Kelsch basically did nothing. In 1917 - not the calmest year in world history - he sent only one telegram to his superiors. True, it cost more than a thousand pounds - the cunning Brazilian sent the full text of one of Kerensky’s speeches to the ministry, thus exhausting all the money allocated to him for diplomatic correspondence, and after that he lived quietly.

Bykov's stories alone, combined with the exhibition, would probably be enough to arouse enormous interest in the museum. But no, he didn’t stop there. In the second hall, visitors are invited to feel the atmosphere of the era and listen to the music of that time. A pretty girl opens the piano - March by composer Czarnecki. To everyone's shock, painfully familiar sounds are heard - "A big crocodile was walking down the street." Well, it’s clear - obviously, the verses were sung to the tune of a popular melody at that time... “Crocodile”, however, the matter is not limited to - musical evenings are held in the museum. And for those who want to really feel like they are at a diplomatic reception, there are buffet tables. There is even this type of service - “Buffet before the train”. So the hungry group, returning from Kirillov , now has somewhere to go while waiting for the Moscow train.

Alexander Vladimirovich’s relationship with his superiors, apparently, is not the most rosy, and the museum is not particularly promoted in Vologda. It's a pity. After all, we have before us brilliant proof that “our own Platos and quick-witted Newtons” can be found in every corner of Mother Rus'.