From El Salto
April 22, 2025
Some vital notes from Buenaventura Durruti's partner, Émilienne Morin, on their daughter Colette on the occasion of the latter's recent death in France.
A few days ago, Colette, also known as Diana, whose married name was Marlot and née Durruti, died in France. The news of her death, the exact date of which is unknown, has reached only a small press and libertarian media because she was the daughter of Buenaventura Durruti, an anarcho-syndicalist who died on the Madrid front in 1936, defending the capital against fascism. Who doesn't know Durruti?
We know almost nothing about Colette's life, except for the role played by her father's memory. Sometimes, the figure of her mother, Émilienne Morin, the French woman Durruti met at the International Anarchist Bookstore in Paris, also appears blurred in that memory.
Émilienne was 26 years old and worked, or had worked, as a secretary for the newspaper Ce qu´il faut dire... , founded by Sebastian Faure. The daughter of a factory worker, Ernestine Giraud, and Étienne Morin, a trade unionist and compagnon du bâtiment , Émilienne was a member of the Young Syndicalists of the Seine in her youth, a member of the 15th arrondissement group in Paris. Active and committed to the revolutionary cause, she also participated in the campaigns for the release of Sacco and Vanzetti, as well as in the support committees for the release of Durruti, Ascaso, and Jover when they were imprisoned in France, even though she had never met them. In 1924, she married the anarchist Mario Antonio Casari, also known as Cesario Tafani and Oscar Barodi, from whom she divorced three years later.
On July 14, 1927, Émilienne was at the International Social Bookstore, also known as the Librairie Internationale Anarchiste, at 72 Rue des Prairies in the 20th arrondissement of Paris. The bookstore, which Spanish anarchists had helped to open financially, was run by Séverin Férandel, a prominent French anarchist, polyglot, editor, and then-comrade of Berthe Suzanne Faber, director of the Spanish-language newspaper Acción . Berthe and Émilienne were not only companions but also excellent friends.
That summer day in Paris, Berthe and Émilienne saw two Spaniards enter the bookstore. They immediately recognized Durruti and Ascaso, who worked at Renault, and it took only a few words for Durruti and Émilienne to join forces from that moment on, sealing a relationship in the greatest paradise an anarchist could dream of: a bookstore. In time, Berthe Faber would also become Francisco Ascaso's romantic partner. The relationship between Émilienne and Berthe, the ups and downs of their lives after their companions disappeared, their exchange of letters while Berthe was in besieged and starving Barcelona at the end of the war in December 1938, and Émilienne was in Paris participating in the relief committees, their friendship over time—would be the subject of another article.
Mimí's, Émilienne's nickname, was characterized by intelligence and independence. This testimony was written by Lola Iturbe, a personal friend, in her book " Women in the Social Struggle and the Spanish Civil War . " Lola described her as a very pleasant woman, with light skin and blue eyes, and a boyishly cut hair , with great oratorical skills that were evident in the public controversies that arose. Lola and Émilienne met in Brussels shortly after Durruti was expelled from France in 1927. Émilienne soon joined him there and participated in the public debates. The controversies Lola Iturbe refers to are the discussions that took place in the People's House in Brussels, especially with the communists.
Durruti's death on November 20, 1936, on the Madrid front, was a severe blow for Émilienne Morin. Colette had already been born. She was five years old.
In March 1979, Roberto Merino, Émilienne Morin's Parisian lawyer, published a letter in the newspaper El País , easily found on the Internet (Pension for Durruti's widow), in which he denounced that Émilienne had requested a widow's pension from the Spanish State as a relative of " a Spaniard who died as a result of the 1936-1939 war , " under a Royal Decree that opened the door to such requests. However, the response that Émilienne received from the Spanish State, through the consul in Paris, where she lived, was that the most difficult proof would be to demonstrate the existence of a marriage between Buenaventura and Émilienne, given that they had never married. On one occasion, when Mimí was asked if she had ever married Durruti, she replied:
“Durruti and I never married, of course. What do you think? Anarchists don't go to the civil registry. We met in Paris. He had just gotten out of prison. There had been a huge campaign all over France, and the government had caved in. He was released. Durruti left that same afternoon and visited some friends. I was there. We saw each other, fell in love at first sight, and that's how we stayed.”
In his letter to El País , Roberto Merino denounced the demand for such absurd proof for several reasons: first, because anarchists did not usually marry, as they did not recognize either God or Master (or Church or State); second, there was abundant and notable evidence that Durruti and Émilienne Morin were a married couple, acknowledged in the numerous press clippings and chronicles of the time, father and mother of their daughter Colette.
We don't know if she will ultimately be granted a widow's pension. We imagine so because we don't see a woman like Émilienne resigning herself to the dictates of a miserly state that bases marriage on a written contract.
Lola Iturbe tells us that when Durruti died, she saw Émilienne in pain, but strong in spirit. Iturbe kept until her death the page that, shaken with emotion, Mimí wrote on the typewriter in an office at the Ministry of Defense. It is headed " À mon grand disparu " ( To my great absence ) . It was published in issue 6 of the magazine Mujeres Libres , and earlier in Tiempos Nuevos . The letter reads as follows:
“In the midst of this immense crowd that sincerely mourns your death, I feel less alone, and this grand display of sympathy (or rather, adoration) gives me the courage to outlive you.
No pride dictates these words; glory, like you, has always been indifferent to me, and in solitude I must cultivate your memory.
Until final victory, I will dedicate my modest efforts to the anti-fascist struggle. I must also fulfill another mission: to give a dignified education to our little Colette, your daughter, of whom you were so proud. My only ambition is to make her a militant who resembles you both in spirit and physical features; you have left humanity a bit of your flesh and blood: our Colette is a living reproduction of your energetic and good face. Before your poor, decomposed body, which I wanted to contemplate for the last time, I solemnly promised myself to overcome my pain and instill in our daughter the indomitable energy and naive nobility that presided over your entire life. To make our Colette a true DURRUTI, worthy of your spiritual lineage, will be the only hope of my broken life.
To you, to all the comrades who mourn him, I offer my fraternal greetings, and on behalf of all the obscure militants who have given their lives for the triumph of the Revolution, I say: Forward, until the final victory!
Émilienne Morin.
“HEALTH AND FRATERNITY.”
Colette's life was linked to the memory of her father... and her mother. In a speech for the newspaper El País , marking the 60th anniversary of the hero's death at the Ciudad Universitaria (City of University Colleges), later translated and published in French, Colette Durruti recalled that her mother never wanted to speak to her about her father's death because it hurt too much. A reserved person, in Colette's words, Émilienne never wanted to enter into the debate about whether Durruti's death was accidental or not. "She told me only one thing: your father, more than a hero, was a good person."
Émilienne and Colette had few tangible memories of Durruti. The fascist occupation of France in the 1940s forced them to burn all documents that could have incriminated them, including photographs and letters. All they kept was the death mask that Vittorio Macho made of Durruti a few hours after his death, which hung on one of the walls of their house in Quimper. Colette always said she learned about her father's life from the many books that were and continue to be written about him.
Colette married Roger Marlot in 1953, with whom she had a son and a daughter. She came to Spain on several occasions, sometimes invited to participate in tributes to her father and the memory of his time. She lived in the Pyrénées-Orientales, in a town we know about because today's social media and the internet allow us to find out about anyone's private life, but which we prefer not to reveal here. We know that her granddaughter, who must be approaching 40, knows perfectly well who her great-grandparents were and what they meant to the history of a country that has always been so ungrateful to those who wanted to improve it.
Colette Marlot, née Durruti, also known as Diana, born on December 4, 1931, and died on an uncertain day in mid-April 2025, left us this spring. We sense that she was always happy with her family, beyond her surnames. May the earth be light for her.
Comments
:)
anon (not verified) Sun, 05/04/2025 - 06:52
"sealing a relationship in the greatest paradise an anarchist could dream of: a bookstore. "
love this!
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