Not without complaints

One hundred and seventy-five years ago Vasily Kurochkin was born

And who exactly is he, this Kurochkin? Oh, how our years fly by. I suppose they didn’t ask twenty-five years ago. It’s a sin, I didn’t look through the newspapers of that time, but it seems to me that the sesquicentennial anniversary of the “Russian Beranger”, the founder and permanent editor of the satirical illustrated magazine “Iskra”, an angry denouncer of reaction, obscurantism, corruption, tyranny and other beauties of the damned tsarist regime, was celebrated in an appropriate manner. It was reported that Vasily Stepanovich was born into the family of a manumitted serf (they carefully kept silent about the fact that his father was in charge of the master’s affairs from a young age, and having decided on the sovereign’s service, he acquired “the rank of assessor, a highly coveted one,” coupled with hereditary nobility). About studying in the Noble Regiment, where, of course, obscurantism and drill reigned. (Only literature was taught by the creator of the “Russian Dickens” Irinarch Vvedensky, and Kurochkin, in company with another future “Iskraist”, Dmitry Minaev, published a handwritten magazine.) The literary debut - a verse congratulation to the Grand Duke Mikhail Pavlovich (1848) - could have been omitted . In contrast to the disciplinary sanction that the ensign of the Grenadier Prince of the Württemberg Regiment received (the worst place of service, by the way, tea, was not in Tmutarakan, but in the capital) - of course, a patent for nobility! As well as “natural” prose, vaudeville and translations, which were written between shifts by a young officer who passionately hated barracks with greatcoats and, apparently, therefore tried to enter the military academy.

Well, continue along the smooth path, without stumbling on the bumps. Anti-serfdom poems (expressed by Nekrasov), translations from Beranger (six editions during his lifetime!), relations with London agitators... In 1857, Herzen’s “Voices from Russia” was published (and all young and not so young Russia read and purred with a grin) : I have found, friends, I have found, / Who is the stupid culprit / Of our misfortunes, our evils. / The coat of arms is to blame for everything, / Bilingual, two-headed, / Our All-Russian eagle. In the same year, the writer (whose name, at least in the St. Petersburg literary world, was an open secret), together with the artist Nikolai Stepanov, decided to publish a satirical magazine - the damned extinguishers of reason allowed Iskra only in 1859. The glorious fifteenth anniversary begins: Iskra is a branch of Kolokol. Iskra is a loyal ally of Sovremennik. “Iskra” is the threat of bribe-takers, henchmen of the autocracy, thieves, cowardly “liberals”, policemen, so-called poets (singing all sorts of beauties and fantasies), bureaucrats, informers, outdated writers and other obscurantists. Iskra is a constant victim of the censor's tyranny (yes, in 1864 Kurochkin, who had already traveled to London, had already joined the central committee of Land and Freedom, was already under secret supervision, was tyrannically removed from the editorship - it passed to him brother Vladimir), who, however, cannot do anything with the free Russian word (whistle, cackle): At censorship, friends, / Laugh just like me: / After all, for thought and for word, / Frankly speaking, / To us You don’t need any / Permission from the king! // With a monarchical instinct, / Retaining faith in reforms, / What we write, we will send / Directly to London, to Iskander.

How the worst of the worst Soviet literary critics loved these lines! And how can you not love. Firstly, praising the accusers and smearing the damned past with mud is your direct responsibility, and secondly, quoting the old freedom lover, you seem to compensate for your own sticky fear, winking at colleagues with the same party cards in their pockets: they say, in fact, we are all for freedom, but times are not the same... Oh, not the same. According to a contemporary, “Kurochkin, summoned to the hall of the second gymnasium by applause for an encore, being tipsy, read these very verses under the guise of a translation from Beranger.” The year was 1862. As they wrote in Soviet textbooks, the reaction intensified.

It “intensified” to the point that in April 1866, after Karakozov shot the Tsar-Liberator, a search was conducted at Kurochkin’s place, during which 21 copies of “The Bell” and a lot of other outrageous works were confiscated. After which Vasily Stepanovich served in Petropavlovka for three whole months, leading from there the invariably brave Iskra. Everyone who was supposed to was still in awe of her. She was still admired by everyone who sincerely thought that there was no country more unfortunate and worse than Russia, no state system more shameful and ferocious than the existing one, no society more corrupt than that inherited by the accusers. And also those who thought a little differently, but could not lag behind the general chorus.

Allusions are a rotten tool. Post-reform Russia is not like either the late (not to mention the early) Soviet era, with its ideocracy and tough (until the last days) fight against free speech, or modern Russia, where - after faith in free and honest speech was undermined by collective efforts - the “artistic whistling” turned out to be a harmless (in its own way, even useful) component of the general cacophony. (The chairman of the collective farm, who in an old Soviet joke uttered the immortal “Let them slander,” was a genius ahead of his time.) “Iskra” whistled almost with impunity (yes, almost - because there were prohibited texts, and warnings, and bargaining with authorities , and hassle, and even the closure of the magazine in 1873, which was hard for Kurochkin, but by no means expelled him from public literature) and was quite effective. Caustic and pathetic feuilletons (go figure which of them were branded as very real outrages, and which of them the writer was zealous for the sake of the “common holy cause” and the delight of the public, which is always gratifying to see how “they got hit with this too”), lively couplets with puns ( here, although the editor showed class, his former classmate Minaev clearly bypassed him), correspondence from the field, effective caricatures, caustic hints, and continuous rollicking whistles effectively educated the young tribe. Is it any wonder that the widow of the founder of the Communist Party and the Soviet state recalled how Ilyich loved the poems of the “Iskraists.” I believe! It wasn’t Fet he should have loved! Scoffing, teasing and mocking “old stuff” (it doesn’t matter whether it’s an eternal value or an official falsehood!) is always a detriment to the young. Our new press has a lot of honor in reproaches for the fact that it has made the target audience of ignoramuses, and the main tone - banter. Read the “Iskraists” - they were often published under Soviet rule.

True, Kurochkin had not only banter, but also pathos. The one that intoxicated Gorky’s Actor, who remembered Bérenger’s favorite “essay” about the unattainable “holy truth” and the madman “who will bring sleep to humanity” with gold.” There was the energy of a literary organizer. It was a difficult life (you don’t die from a good life at forty-five). There was even talent - small, but noticeable in the early translations. (Or is it only music that creates the miracle of “The Old Corporal”?) So, maybe there will be something left of the favorites of our party. How was Kurochkin’s “Friendly Advice” left behind, which every Russian writer said with great feeling at least once in his life (those who didn’t read Kurochkin invented something similar themselves): Breathe fresh air, / Without any special complaints; / If you’re stupid - - don’t write like that, / And especially - reviews . What is “for rhyme”, what is “for a joke”, and what is “for business”, decide for yourself.

Andrey NEMZER