Sheremetevs Keywords:, emigration, Morocco

The Sheremetevs are a very distinguished Russian family ¹. As early as the 16th century, the grandsons of the progenitor of the future count's family, Andrey Sheremet ², entered the Boyar Duma. Sheremetevs participated in numerous battles and wars: with Lithuania and the Crimean Khan, in the Livonian War, Kazan campaigns. For their service, they were granted fiefdoms in Moscow, Yaroslavl, Ryazan, and Nizhny Novgorod counties. Boyars, voivodes, governors, generals, diplomats, scientists, musicians, patrons of art - Sheremetevs from century to century faithfully served the Fatherland, its politics, public welfare, cultural development - in short, all those noble deeds that descendants will be proud of.

Today, Pyotr Petrovich Sheremetev, a philanthropist, film actor, and architect who designed buildings in Paris, the capitals of the United Arab Emirates, and Saudi Arabia, is well known in Russia. Rector of the Rachmaninoff Conservatory in Paris, Pyotr Petrovich has been an honorary member of the St. Petersburg Philharmonic Society since the beginning of the new century, and since 2003-Chairman of the Presidium of the International Council of Russian Compatriots Living Abroad. Together with the leaders of our country, he opened the Congress of compatriots in 2001 in the Tavrichesky Palace of St. Petersburg. P. P. Sheremetev-co-founder of the Ivanovo-Voznesensky Cadet Corps named after Boris Petrovich Sheremetev, founder and President of the Sheremetyevo Center in Tomsk and Ivanovo-Voznesensk, member of the Academy of Arts of the Russian Federation, holder of the Order of " Patron of the Century "(awarded the Ruby Cross), in 2006. He was awarded the Badge of the Order of St. Alexander Nevsky "For Works and Fatherland" ³.

On the colorful canvas of the brilliant national Russian and international military, diplomatic, scientific and artistic merits of the male part of the Sheremetevs ' heraldic tree, scrupulously described and researched by historians, ⁴ the corps of women of this family or those who entered it through marriage is rather modestly located. However, this is rather a gender blunder of historians, since the gallery of female portraits of the Sheremetevs is rich in truly vivid and expressive images.

A prominent figure in the Sheremetev family was the daughter of Major General D. F. Levshin and Natalia Alexandrovna (nee Golenishcheva-Kutuzova). Marina Dmitrievna Levshina-Sheremeteva. After 1917 she left Russia with her parents. Several years of emigrant wandering in the Caucasus, life in Greece, on the island of Lemnos ⁵, then in France. In the late 1920s, by that time the Countess, the wife of Count Pyotr Petrovich Sheremetev, she found herself in the Moroccan city of Kenitra (Port-L-yote), where her older sister Nadezhda Dmitrievna (married Shidlovskaya) already lived. After moving to Rabat in 1938, Marina Dmitrievna became an active member of the parish of the Resurrection Church in Rabat, sang in the church choir, and for a decade chaired the parish council. In May 1998, she was granted Russian citizenship. Out of respect for her merits and taking into account the 90th anniversary, in December 1998 Patriarch Alexy II awarded M. D. Sheremeteva with his blessed certificate.

The baton of Moroccan life is now worthily carried by another representative of a glorious family, the heroine of our essay Praskovya Petrovna Sheremeteva-de Mazier, the daughter of Marina Dmitrievna and Pyotr Petrovich Sheremetev, the sister of P. P. Sheremetev, whom we have already mentioned, who was born, like him, in Morocco.

The life story of Praskovya Petrovna Sheremeteva and her family is a kind of bridge between the "first" and "second" waves of Russian emigration in North Africa. Strictly speaking, her parents were" full-fledged " emigrants from revolutionary Russia. She herself - Russian by birth, French by documents, who has lived in Morocco all her life-calls herself " a marginal person of all societies."

The following fragments of interviews with P. P. Sheremeteva, which she gave to the author in Morocco (Rabat and Casablanca) in 2007 and 2009, and in Moscow in 2010, as well as comments on them, as well as fragments of letters to the author-to some extent explain this phenomenon formulated by her. A close reading of these texts gives a new angle of view of the world picture of Russian emigration in Africa, coloring it with new colors, complementing it with a special sharpness and insight of the female gaze-

yes, both on your own life and on the world around you.

The essay, based on these materials, was divided into several subsections, each of which is connected (as far as possible in the narrative logic of Praskovya Petrovna herself) with a certain period of her life, as well as the social experience of her immediate environment - family, friends, neighbors, relatives. And here her author's "I"understands itself as an indispensable part of the family.

These oral testimonies can be considered as part of a large creative work devoted to the history of Russians in Morocco, which was conceived and is currently being implemented by P. P. Sheremeteva herself.

The cited texts preserve the linguistic style of our informant, which is not always familiar to modern ears, but adds unique touches to her portrait.

Father and Mother (from a 2009 interview):

"How they adapted to a new life, to a new world-this is some kind of miracle! My mother was probably better than my father, because everyone in her family was fluent in French, and the Sheremetevs were so-so. They (the Sheremetevs - N. K.) lived in Moscow until 1924, and they were no longer allowed access to educational institutions. So they studied as best they could: someone gave them lessons in mathematics, someone in another subject, my grandmother in French... as long as there was enough time, since it was still necessary to earn a daily bread in addition.

It's sad that there's no one left to ask about how they lived. In Russia, I once asked my aunt, Elena Petrovna (the sister of Pyotr Petrovich Sr., who never left Russia): how did you live, on what money? She says: while my grandfather lived, the money was in the bank... And then? No one knows. And the Meyendorfs (the family of my grandmother, Sheremeteva Elena Bogdanovna) have never been "rich", especially if you compare them with the Sheremetevs. They had an estate in Estonia where they raised chickens. In the St. Petersburg almanac from 1912 there is an advertisement: "Chickens, eggs and chickens of Barons Meyendorff".

My father always dreamed of owning a piece of land and growing something on it. After completing his baccalaureate, he entered a school of agriculture. Maybe there was a subconscious idea that they would return to Russia one day and that it was necessary to prepare for this? It's possible. The school took its students to Morocco in 1929. In Kenitra, he had already found Nadezhda Dmitrievna Shidlovskaya, his future belle-soeur (sister-in-law), and saw an opportunity to settle in Morocco. In Paris, or in Clamart, a suburb of Paris, where many relatives lived at that time, there were many divorces, absurd marriages, so that my father called it, not without humor, "the village of sin", where he did not want to live.

6^{Was the beginning of the protectorate}. The French were in the majority, and they had power. Being a European, he could have found a place for himself... Like many Russians, he is so

he never accepted French citizenship.

My parents ' life was extremely difficult: one son died, then a daughter. My mother was seriously ill for years. There was no money. My father didn't make much money, and they didn't know how to manage money at all. No one ever taught them that. His job-selling agricultural machinery-was not to his liking. The mother also did not have the opportunity to work in her specialty, if only because children immediately appeared, as well as because she did not have citizenship. It is necessary to add to this that they were both only 23 years old at the time!..

7^{With the French, of course, we lived close, went to school, then to the lyceum. The main thing is that we were not only taught in French, but also in French... Our friends were French, of course, and we went to scout meetings together, and later to parties. But we still knew that "we" wasn't quite like "they." Rabat did not have a "Thursday school" like Casablanca}.

We lived - as the years have made clear to me now - in a kind of eternal contradiction and, to some extent, in a split: on the one hand, a distant, almost mythical Russia, which was becoming more and more unreal; on the other hand, a French pragmatic, logical world, towards which, as a matter of fact, nothing prepared us.

To this picture, we must also add the Arab environment, which, although it meant little (my parents did not have intelligent Arab acquaintances, I just think that they had nowhere to meet such people), but still this environment had its influence on our development, our sensitivity, our worldview. Living in a colonial system, and because of this, unfortunately, we did not feel the need to learn Arabic (Moroccans had to learn French), we, like all Europeans at that time, to some extent ignored the world around us. There were servants, there were my father's clients who invited us to preternaturally rich feasts. We went to the villages for "diafa" (receptions) holidays, where under the tent, sitting on carpets, leaning on pillows... being already completely exhausted from the excess of delicious food, we drank hot and sweet mint tea, while the village people - men in white djelabs, women in colorful kaftans-danced to the sounds of flutes and drums...

Neighbors, colleagues, and acquaintances brought gifts and treats for Muslim holidays with the extraordinary generosity that is characteristic of Eastern people. And so we were imbued with this culture. My parents, although they did not try to attract us to it - it was already difficult to support everything Russian - but they did not push us away. They did not allow any arrogant attitude towards Moroccans... My father had learned Arabic out of necessity, and my mother had started learning it as soon as she got to Morocco, so she spoke it quite well. In her old age - she was then over 70-she began to learn to read and write, in classical Arabic... This is how we lived: Russians in North Africa, in an Arab country saturated with French culture, supporting a significant part of Russianness, Russian way of life, and spirit. But we were no longer the same, and like all emigrants, no matter where they came from, no matter where they lived, we were changing. My mother once said to me: "we are alien" - that is, we are different, "supranational", who did not belong to any particular culture, or to any particular society. And at the same time experienced all the positive, as well as negative aspects of this state, a certain ability to adapt to everything, to feel "at home" everywhere, to get acquainted with different worlds, different worldviews. Having the ability to understand these worlds "from the inside", to be some kind of intermediaries. But at the same time experiencing a certain sense of loneliness."

From a letter from Praskovya Petrovna Sheremeteva to the author dated December 30, 2007 ⁸:

"It seems to me that I didn't tell enough about my parents, about our mother. How brave a person she was. Or rather, how much she forced herself to be brave. She always said, " Don't give in to fear. Fear takes away your strength."..

She worked all her life: she taught English in various schools, spent days and nights poring over very difficult scientific translations from Russian, from English, especially on pedology ^[9 ] (when the "second wave" of emigrants came, among them were scientists (such as pedologist Kavaleridze) who, while working in their specialty in Morocco However, they did not know French at all and needed translation in order to publish their scientific works. But the main thing

neither was working on the voice. At the age of 50, she invented a technique for voice production and its application to the treatment of the mentally ill. (She was then working with doctors at a psychiatric hospital in Rabat.) She was an excellent teacher and knew how to find a way to attract the attention of her patients: autistic or just children with school difficulties, such as dyslexics ¹⁰, and in general with all sorts of balance disorders. They were French, Americans, and Arabs. And with each of them, she studied in her own language, adapting the work to each of them. She was a pioneer in her field: now it has become somewhat banal to talk about the importance of the voice as a tool for expressing personality, but then very few people talked about it and were interested in it.

In 1980, when she was already 72 years old, she decided that there was no "future" for her in Morocco, that there would never be an opportunity to spread her method. And she decided to go to the United States, where one of her former patients had returned to live, whose son she saved from constant school failures, after which he studied well, passed exams and generally changed fundamentally. She settled in Washington, D.C., rented an apartment and a grand piano, and began giving her own lessons. Students were swarming, doctors and specialists were interested in her work. It was a very happy moment in my mother's life. She forgot about her age (which, by the way, never really bothered her). And to one of my young friends, an acquaintance in whose family we had dinner with her, when asked: "Marina, what brings you to the United States?", she turned to him with a very proud movement of her head and said: "Ambition..."

From a 2009 interview.:

"My mother lived most of her life and passed away in the apartment in Rabat that they had been living in since 1940, when they had to give up the lovely rented two-story house that they could no longer live in because of her health (there was a staircase that she couldn't handle). It was a good-sized but modest apartment with high ceilings and a small garden in a house that had become even more modest when all the French left after independence and were gradually replaced by Moroccans who refused to take any part in the ongoing renovation of the common parts. She stayed there just out of habit. However, she paid little attention to the external environment. And when at the end of her life, when she returned from a 17-year absence, she was completely blind, it was just nice for her to know almost by touch all the corners of such a familiar place."

From Praskovya Petrovna Sheremeteva's letter to the author dated December 27, 2007¹¹:

"We should also tell you more about our father. He was a surprisingly noble man, with everyone equally simple and direct. I remember how, on his way to a reception at the Spanish Embassy, he met a waiter of his acquaintance at the door and discussed something with him for a long time, while the ambassador waited patiently for him. I was literally "on the coals" (I was then 18 years old), and what does it matter to him: a friend and all! And the fact that there was some difference in class did not play any role for him..."

From a 2007 interview.:

"When I was 15 years old, he once said to me:" No one was born to serve you." In colonial Morocco, this was a real lesson for me. And the fact that it came from a man whose family has "reigned" over thousands of people for centuries, we can say that this was an amazing example.

About the revolution, he said-according to my mother - that although he deeply lamented the tragic fate of the Russian people, bitterly experiencing the collapse of everything that was the basis of Russia, he nevertheless believed that it (the revolution) gave him personally an unexpected opportunity to live like an ordinary person a person. And that it was a big advantage.

He suffered greatly from the rudeness and uncultivation of the people of the middle-class type, with whom his profession forced him to work and meet daily, and enjoyed the company of ordinary workers, mechanics, for example, those who went with him to check the material. More than once, after work, he brought them home, treated them to dinner and listened to their very simple but frank reflections about people, about work, about life.

My parents, although very different in character, found a certain platform of connection in music. We all had good voices, but my mother had a lovely one, she had to sing! When she was a nurse, she was also studying singing at the same time, and her professor promised her a career. My father had a good tenor voice, and above all, a perfect ear. He has played the cello and piano since childhood. He studied in Moscow at the Gnessin school in the same class as Khachaturian. Already in Morocco, Count Mikhail Lvovich Tolstoy taught him to play the guitar. In the 1940s, my father created a choir that performed regularly. I remember that one concert aired during these years. The choir was composed by Russians who sang in the church choir, and French amateurs. He composed and wrote romances (words and music).

Despite his weaknesses (like many Sheremetevs, he liked to drink, which undoubtedly shortened his life), he had some inner wisdom, for which he was very respected and often came to him for friendly advice.

When he died, he was not yet 63 years old."

On identification and self-identification (from a 2009 interview and a conversation in Moscow in 2010):

"Many Russians left Morocco after independence in 1956. My family stayed because there was basically nowhere to go. For my father, after the protectorate ended, it became better in terms of work. He became a foreigner, like all other Europeans, including the French themselves. He's never-

Yes, I did not take any citizenship!.. He always felt so Russian that he could not accept citizenship just to have some material advantages: a strong passport, the ability to travel abroad, and so on...

When asked if I am ready to take Russian citizenship myself, I answer: "I don't know...". I have already taken one citizenship once and thus moved from one state to another. Why change it? It's like changing your religion...

You ask me who I am? Born in an Arab country, in a Russian family, with a French upbringing, who am I? Let's say: all this together! When I was in Russia, my cousin, Illarion Golitsyn, used to say to me: "So you have a split personality." I then answered: "Yes, what a split-up there is!" Because to some extent, yes, I am Russian; I feel very close to Russians.

Rather, it is a cultural memory, this wonderful language that I am in love with and which, thank God, I still have... I began to speak fluently, fluently, and easily in 1988, when I was already 54 years old, when I went to Russia and lived there for 2 months in an exclusively Russian environment. Then, when the dreams themselves began to occur in Russian...

I am now de jure French.

But I was passport-free before I got married. My husband is a Frenchman whose family has lived in Morocco since 1912. His father was born in Turkey, and his maternal grandfather was born in Montevideo (Uruguay), so there is also a certain supra-nationality there. His grandfather, de Mazier, worked in the Crimea, built railways, and he has one son who died and is buried in Melitopol. Strange interbreeding of fates..."

About your education (from a 2007 interview):

"I didn't get a higher education. Our father's means did not allow him to support two children outside Morocco (he had to study in France at that time, there were no higher educational institutions in Morocco). It was important to send a son who had to prepare to support the family, then not only could, but had to count on her future husband. Such were the concepts of that time...

I wanted to study languages, become a translator, and also dreamed of theater. So I spent a year in law school, and then I went to work... secretary of the lowest rank. But at least I learned a lot about administrative work, which turned out to be very useful much later. I went to university when I was already married, in Algeria, where my husband was serving his military service and where I lived in 1958-1959.

The disappearance of the protectorate affected the family's life by making it easier for my father to work, material conditions changed, and he was able to start a car and travel. My husband and I left Morocco on Independence Day, the day after our wedding. We lived first in Paris, then in Algeria, and the most amazing thing for me was that I left one country, and when I returned a few months later, it was completely different! Suddenly we wondered: where were the Arabs? Because we used to see almost only French people and rare Arabs in the city center. I even asked a Moroccan friend of mine, well, where were you? It turns out that this was a deliberate political boycott of the colonial city.

Did I feel uncomfortable? Unfortunately, no. Why, unfortunately? It didn't even occur to us Europeans. We didn't have any political consciousness... Also, we weren't French... we were marginals of all societies. And when we returned to live in Morocco (1959), we began to meet and make friends with intelligent Moroccans, with whom we shared a lot. We worked with them, had fun, traveled around Morocco. Then everything became quite normal."

On the "second" emigration (from a 2007 interview and a conversation in Moscow in 2010):

"When I started my work (on Russians in Morocco), I didn't think much about the "second" emigration. Only later did it become absolutely clear that it was unthinkable not to talk about it, to limit this work to the study of the "first" wave. Was there a hard watershed

between the "first" and "second" waves of emigration? Most of them settled in Casablanca, where there were factories and industry, which provided more opportunities to find work and establish a solid life. And in Casablanca, all the representatives of the old emigration helped them in every possible way...

As it seems to me now, they were alien to our environment, and our people looked with interest, but still with some apprehension, at these representatives of homo sovieticus. They admired their efficiency, the fact that they all had two crafts and that they could always somehow turn around... They were sober people, without any sentimentality, which is understandable after all that they experienced and experienced both in the Soviet Union and during the war.

It seems to me that the conflict began with the church issue. It is quite clear that people who managed to escape from the Soviet regime did not want to hear about the possibility of going to a church that depended on Moscow. The fact is that the Rabat parish voted shortly before for the transition to the jurisdiction of the Moscow Patriarchate. My parents were in favor of the transition. They were convinced by Father Varsonofy. The argument was that it was necessary to move to the bosom of the Russian suffering Church. I know that my father was also not against it, although he was deeply anti-Soviet. It should be noted that the Soviet government tried in every possible way to attract emigration. And after the majority made this decision, they found out that Fr. Varsonofia Soviet passport! It was a blow to my father. He felt like he'd let them down. And then he himself finally refused the charming Soviet proposals.

I found anonymous letters in the papers of my family, where my mother is called "Bolshevik Sheremeteva". And her sister and her husband were strongly opposed to the transition. But I must say that I have never noticed any traces of this struggle in our family life...

We - my mother and I-went to the "Anastasievtsy" ¹², if only because their church was located in the basement of the house in which we lived, that is, just around the corner... She went to services that she loved so much and knew so well, and politics had nothing to do with that. Just like race, religion, etc. I remember that once in a church in Paris, on the rue Loop, she gave a memorial note for the health of some Abdallah or Mohammed who was ill and for whom she wanted to pray. They ask her: "Is he baptized?" - "Of course not!" - " So we can't pray for him." - "How so: a person like a person is sick, and I want to pray for him. That's all." They turned her down, and she tells me that, says they're such fools..."

About Russian friends and relatives (their own and parents') in Morocco (from interviews in 2007 and 2009):

"Yes, there were friends. We were friends with the Ignatiev boys. Their father was an architect. My childhood friend was Olga Alekseeva, granddaughter of K. S. Stanislavsky and great-granddaughter of Leo Tolstoy. In general, there were few children. And there were virtually no" old men " - bearers of traditions, except for Prince Dolgoruky and Count Tolstoy, who died soon after the war. I felt this unique situation very strongly when I got to Russia and realized how important it is - grandparents, their influence on the development of children and on their lives... And we lived without grandparents, and everyone around us, except for a few nannies, was young...

My parents were friends and were close to many of those who lived in Rabat at that time: the Ignatievs, the Glebovs, the Tolstys, Bluket and his wife, Pavel Gorstkin and Georgy Brysin (for some reason, at the age of 4, I awarded him the name "blue uncle"), the Gagarins. And in Casablanca, the Podchertkovs, Princess Urusova, Irina Berkhman, the Prokhorovs, and Balkashin, who had such a beautiful voice. I know that my father was also friends with Dmitry Vatadze, whom I don't think I ever met. He was married to a beautiful Moroccan woman. And in Tangier - with Sergei Bulacel, whose poems I found in my father's papers. In Marrakech, with Volik Stengel, with whom he shared a common love of music.

In Kenitra, in addition to a close family - the Shidlovskys, Boris Petrovich Sheremetev - lived Komarov (Fyodor Nikolaevich)¹³, Freiman

(Evgeny?), Hoffman (Sergey Anatolyevich), whom my parents often met. They were sailors who had come from Bizerte at the invitation of the French government to create a harbor at Kenitre. But it seems to me that the closest to them, and especially to their mother, were the Menshikovs - Nikolai and Katya, nee Serikova. He was a brilliant geologist. The whole world knows about it. She's a doctor. The war caught them in Algeria and did not allow them to return to Paris. They started coming to Morocco, and then just moved to live in Rabat. Both of them were beautiful, elegant, very educated and with a lot of humor. With their intelligence, they brought my mother everything that she lacked in her ordinary Moroccan life. And Katya actually saved her from certain death when, after the death of my sister in 1939, my mother became seriously ill. That didn't stop her from reaching the age of 93 with "poor but iron-clad health."

On his current attitude to church life (from a 2009 interview):

"We had the good fortune to know very worthy and deeply religious priests, and were surrounded by sincerely believing people. I'm not as religious as my mother. She expected a lot from religion, which clearly helped her live. She had two roots: a deep faith and a great capacity for work.

Now I very rarely go to church in Rabat. It somehow became very difficult for me there, it became ugly, all the beautiful icons of that time (after describing them by Kolupaev¹⁴) disappeared somewhere, and they were replaced by insignificant paper images. There is no choir. When I'm in Paris, for example, on the Rue des Loops, where my mother went, or on the Rue Daru, where they sing so wonderfully, I connect with my parents and relatives, I stand with them mentally, they are with me. And in the Rabat church, they somehow withdrew."

P. P. Sheremeteva (about her Contemporary Art Gallery "L'Atelier" in Rabat):

"Many people still know that this gallery has been around for 20 years. It was not profitable, but rather unprofitable. Mostly, the works of Moroccan abstract artists were exhibited. But also from the Middle East, Algeria, Tunisia, Egypt, Syria, Italy, etc. It was a place of rapprochement between people and cultures, there was no other place then. If only because the Moroccan government was not interested in culture at all: during these 20 years, the gallery has held 79 exhibitions and displayed works by 96 masters (artists, sculptors, photographers, architects). no sponsors and no grants. And in 1991, in the last year of its existence, we were able to take three artists to Paris for a big exhibition at the Grand Palais. I loved this work, and I am glad that I contributed something to the social and cultural life of the country in which I was born and live. After all, this has always been the Sheremetyevo case."

* * *

In the fall of 2008, Bizerte hosted the first (and last) meeting of two famous "Russian Afrikaners" - Anastasia Alexandrovna Manshtein-Shirinskaya and Praskovya Petrovna Sheremeteva. The latter came to Bizerte from Rabat to congratulate A. A. Shirinskaya on her 96th birthday. Praskovya Petrovna, of course, had heard about Anastasia Alexandrovna and read her book Bizerta. Last stop". However, they met for the first time.

Russian women of Africa, the first of whom lived here from childhood to a very old age, and the second was born and still continues to live in Africa. And they talked a lot about everything from personal family stories to the problems of modern life and their place in it...

¹ For more information, see: Sheremetevs. Part 2. The Sheremetev Counts. Genealogy and Portraits, Moscow, 2000; Sheremetevs. Part 3. The Sheremetev Nobles. Genealogy and Portraits, Moscow, 2001; Sovetskaya istoricheskaya entsiklopediya. 1976. Vol. 16, p. 256; Biographical dictionary. St. Petersburg, 1911. Vol. 23, pp. 185-186; Pavlenko N. I. Nestlings of Petrov's nest [B. P. Sheremetev, P. A. Tolstoy, A.V. Makarov]. Moscow, 1994; Sheremetevs in the fate of Russia: Memories. Diaries. Pis'ma [Letters], Moscow, 2001.

² 500 Russian surnames of Bulgarian-Tatar origin. Kazan, 1992. See also: Russian Biographical Dictionary, vol. 23, St. Petersburg; Imp. ist. ob-vo 1911, pp. 107-136; Sheremetevs in the fate of Russia: Memories. Diaries. Letters (authored by L. I. Atekseyev and M. D. Kovalev), Moscow, 2001.

^{Gorokhov D ..} 3 Count Sheremetev: There is almost no one left from our family // Echo of the planet. 2009. N 13.

^{Elizarova N. A.} 4 Theaters of the Sheremetevs, Moscow, 1944: Marinchik P. F. Nedopetaya pesnya, Moscow-L., 1965; Lotman Yu. M. Poetika bytovogo povedeniya v russkoi kul'tury XVIII veka [Poetics of everyday behavior in the Russian culture of the XVIII century]. See: Lotman Yu. M. Izbrannye statei, Vol. 1. Tallinn, 1992, p. 249; Starikova LM. Theatrical life of ancient Moscow, Moscow, 1989, p. 298.

⁵ For more information, see Reshetnikov L. Russian Lemnos, Moscow, 2009.

⁶ In 1912, the Treaty of Fez was signed in Morocco, which provided for the transformation of Morocco into a French protectorate. In 1955, Mohammed V returned to his homeland, and the royal court became the center of the national liberation movement. Morocco gained its independence in the spring of 1956.

⁷ A parish school established in Rabat (similar to the French one, organized by the sisterhood), which operates on Thursdays. Here children were taught the Law of God, the Russian language, geography and history of Russia. For more information, see: Path of my Life. Memoirs of Metropolitan Evlogy (Georgievsky), set forth according to his stories by T. Manukhina. Moscow, 1994. Ch. 21.

⁸ From the author's personal archive.

^Pedology 9 (from Greek. - child and science) - a direction in science that aimed to combine the approaches of various sciences (medicine, biology, psychology, pedagogy) to child development.

^Dyslexia is a specific type of learning disorder that has a neurological nature. It is characterized by the inability to quickly and correctly recognize words, perform decoding, and master spelling skills. These difficulties are related to the inferiority of phonological components of the language. They exist despite the preservation of other cognitive abilities and full-fledged learning conditions.

¹¹ From the author's personal archive.

¹² Anastasievtsy-the name of representatives of the Russian Orthodox Church Abroad (ROCOR), after its first hierarch since 1936 - Mitr. Anastasia (Gribanovskogo).

¹³ "Komarov, a very high-ranking officer, he worked as an engineer in Kenitra, he, in fact, created and designed a port in the local harbor" (Comment by P. P. Sheremeteva).

¹⁴ Praskovya Petrovna is referring to Vladimir E. Kolupaev, formerly Abbot of Rostislav (Kolupaev), who served as rector of the Resurrection Church in Rabat from 1997 to 1999. Author of the book " Russians in the Maghreb. History of Russian communities in Africa in the XX century", Moscow, 2009.

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