Every year around August 24, the debate over the state of Ukraine—and, of course, over the Ukrainian city of Kharkiv—heats up. Alas, the discipline of history often turns into servile mythology, and neither side is above resorting to it. Statements like “Ukraine is the homeland of elephants” and “Kharkiv has never been Ukrainian” are equally ridiculous.
We forget that one of the phenomena of the border region is that people from different nations, like metals, blend together in a melting pot to ultimately form something perfect and unique.
What is Kharkiv, Ukraine, really like?
From the late 16th to the early 17th century, the territory of the Wild Field began to be actively settled and developed from both the west and the east. And it was not the Chinese or the Tajiks who came to our lands, but the Ukrainians. The memory of this was so strong that in the document “Decision of the Holy Synod No. 1243 of February 17–18, 1915,” we find a remarkable entry:
Archbishop Anthony of Kharkiv, taking into account that the flock of Kharkiv consists of the descendants of settlers from Galicia and Volhynia (17th century), when organizing a collection for the Galicians, pointed out in his appeal the particularly close kinship between the residents of the Kharkiv Diocese and the Galicians, who were suffering from famine and ruin; and, in addition to the usual collections, designated January 25 as a special day for this purpose, promising in a special appeal that the collected sum, upon obtaining permission from the Holy Synod, would not be disbursed through the usual channels but would be sent directly as a fraternal gift from Kharkiv to Lviv, to the Charitable Committee. As a result, the collection proved to be very generous, and therefore His Eminence requested permission to send the amount collected on January 25—more than two thousand rubles—directly to the Galician Charitable Committee. The Holy Synod granted Archbishop Anthony’s request.
In 1765, the so-called “Free Sloboda Ukraine” (by which I mean the Sloboda Regiments) was abolished. The new administrative unit was called the Sloboda-Ukrainian Governorate and existed until 1780. Then, by decree of Catherine II, it was abolished, and the territory centered on our city came to be known as the Kharkiv Viceroyalty, which also existed for a very short time: from 1780 to 1796.
After the empress’s death, her son Paul I, by his decree “On the New Division of the State into Provinces,” restored the name “Sloboda-Ukrainian Province” to our lands.
During the time of the Second Sloboda-Ukrainian Governorate, the word “Ukraine” appeared in the titles of many periodicals in our city, which is not at all surprising.
Many of them were the first not only in what is now Ukraine, but also throughout the Russian Empire at that time. The first recorded instance of the use of the Ukrainian language in periodicals also took place… that’s right, in Kharkiv in 1816.
One could write endlessly about the constellation of Ukrainian poets and writers who lived and worked in Kharkiv and the Sloboda Ukraine region; let us recall, for example, Semen Klimovsky, Grigory Fedorovich Kvitka-Osnovyanenko, Yakov Shchegolev, the “Kharkiv Kobzar”…
Needless to say, the author of the first comprehensive *Dictionary of the Ukrainian Language*, published in 1907, was also a fellow countryman of ours—the outstanding Ukrainian writer Boris Dmitrievich Hrinchenko. In many cities across our beautiful country, monuments have been erected in his honor, commemorative plaques have been installed, and streets, squares, and various institutions have been named after him. In our city, however, there is nothing of the sort. And that is both surprising and sad. Just the other day, thanks to the painstaking and persistent work of a researcher, the first book was published—and now we feel a little less ashamed before the memory of this great Ukrainian.
In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the Moscow Provincial Zemstvo’s folk art museum exhibited dolls representing all the peoples and provinces of the Russian Empire at that time.
This is how the exhibition’s creators envisioned our region. Perhaps they knew something?
People in our city have always loved drinking beer. The products of the Ukrainian Beer and Mead Brewery “Ukrainka” were considered the highest quality. The most interesting thing is that in the entire vast Russian Empire, there was only one enterprise with that name—and it was ours, here in Kharkiv.
In the early 20th century, it was easy to buy Ukrainian-language books in Kharkiv at a store that was simply called “Ukrainska Knyharnya.” However, during World War I, the authorities eventually closed the store.
In addition, the 12th Archaeological Congress was held in Kharkiv from August 15 to 27, 1902. It was, in essence, the first major scientific forum on a pan-Russian scale. On August 19, the Kharkiv organizers arranged an ethnographic concert for the congress participants, featuring performances by kobzars, bandura players, and lyre players. At its closing session, the 12th Archaeological Congress in Kharkiv resolved to petition the Minister of Internal Affairs to put an end to police persecution of bandura players and lyre players. Subsequently, the first petition in Ukrainian history on this subject was drafted in Kharkiv and signed by all delegates.
We also find the feedback from Kyiv residents regarding this congress quite interesting. You can read it in Issue No. 11 (1902) of the monthly historical, ethnographic, and literary journal *Kyivska Starina*.
…While there had been experience with organizing archaeological exhibitions at previous congresses, the organizers of the ethnographic exhibition were tasked with pioneering a new endeavor, and Kharkiv has the honor of hosting the first Little Russian ethnographic exhibition, — the younger sister outpaced the older one; what the older Kyiv was supposed to do, the younger Kharkiv accomplished. It was a bit embarrassing for the people of Kyiv to hear Prof. Machulsky say, among other things, in his speech at one of the sessions: “The 12th Archaeological Congress has clearly shown us that the center of Little Russian interests has shifted somewhat and is now concentrated here, in the Kharkiv region. This is where the lifeblood of Little Russian life beats; here we have found many figures imbued with the interests of the people…”
One could write endlessly on this topic, since there are plenty of facts about Kharkiv, Ukraine, prior to 1917. But the question arises: why?
We are building the Ukrainian city of Kharkiv today, just as our ancestors did yesterday.
