The Telescope, No. 9, 1831, Moscow
TRIUMPH OF FRIENDSHIP, OR THE ACQUITTED ALEXANDER ANFIMOVICH ORLOV
Cum in arenam aequalibus descendi. - Cicero
(In the company of equals, you fall)
In the midst of the polemics that are tearing asunder our poor literature, N.I. Grech and F.V. Bulgarin for more than ten years have been serving as a comforting example of agreement, which was based on mutual esteem, similarity of souls and of civil and literary interests.
This instructive alliance is marked by venerable milestones. Faddeus Venediktovich modestly acknowledged himself as a student of Nikolai Ivanovich, N.I. hastily recognized Faddeus Venediktovich as his gifted comrade. F.V. dedicated to Nikolai Ivanovich his Dimitri the Self-Proclaimed; Faddeus Venediktovich dedicated to N.I. his Trip to Germany. F.V. wrote for the Grammar of Nikolai Ivanovich a laudatory preface;1 N.I. in Northern Bee (published by Messrs. Grech and Bulgarin) published a laudatory announcement about Ivan Vyzhigin. Unanimity truly touching! Today, Nikolai Ivanovich, believing Faddeus Venediktovich insulted in an article published in № 9 of Telescope, stood up for his friend with his usual directness and ardor. He published in Son of the Fatherland (№ 27) a story, which, of course, reduced to silence the aggressive foes of Faddeus Venediktovich; for Nikolai proved incontrovertibly:
1) That M.I. Golenishchev-Kutuzov was elevated to princely rank in June 1812 (p. 64).
2) That a plan of battle, not a battle constituted the secret of the senior commander (p. 65).
3) That the priest came out to meet the approaching enemy with a cross and holy water (p. 65).
4) That the Secretary leaves the house in a civil uniform, three-cornered hat, with sword, wearing worn white underwear (p. 65).
5) That the proverb: VOX Populi - VOX dei is a Latin proverb, and that this is the true cause of the French Revolution (p. 65).
6) That Ivan Vyzhigin is not a masterpiece, but a noteworthy phenomenon pleasant and useful (p. 62).
7) That Faddeus Venediktovich lives in his village near Dorpat, and has asked him (Nikolai Ivanovich) not to mail him any nonsense (p. 68).
And that, consequently: F.V. Bulgarin with his talents and writings brings honor to his fellow countrymen: That’s what was necessary to prove.
In opposition to that, there is nothing to say; we are the first to applaud loudly Nikolai Ivanovich for his frank and victorious opposition, which honors equally his logic as well as the heat of his feelings.
But friendship (this sacred sentiment) has too far carried away the fiery soul of Nikolai Ivanovich, and from his pen slipped the below-following lines:
There (in № 9 Telescope) they took the two silliest, published-in-Moscow (yes, in Moscow) little books, composed by an A. Orlov.
Oh Nikolai, Nikolai Ivanovich, what kind of example are you setting for the young writers? What expressions you employ in the article, which begins with these stern words: We have for a long time, and with reason, complained of the cynicism, ignorance and dishonesty of reviewers? To where have retreated your moderation, sense of decorum, your well-known integrity? Re-read, Nikolai Ivanovich, re-read these few lines - and you yourself, with regret, will confess to your rashness!
The two silliest little books! … an Orlov! I speak for the entire venerable readership: what critic, what journalist would have dared to use these unpleasant expressions when speaking about the work of a live author? Because, thank God: my venerable friend Alexander Anfimovich Orlov is alive! He is alive, despite the envy and malice of the journalists; he is alive, to the delight of booksellers, to the consolation of his numerous readers!
The two silliest little books! The works of Alexander Anfimovich—sharing with those of Faddeus Venediktovich the love of the Russian public—are called the silliest little books! An unspeakable insolence, amazing, offensive not to my friend (both because he lives in his village, close to Sokolniki, and because he asked me not to mail to him any sort of nonsense), but offensive to the entire reading public.2
Silliest little books! But with what will you be proving this silliness? Do you know, Nikolai Ivanovich, that more than 5000 copies of these silliest little books have dispersed and are now located in the hands of the reading public, that the Vyzhigins of Mr. Orlov are favored by the public equally with the Vyzhigins of Mr. Bulgarin and that the educated class of readers, who abhor both, are neither capable of nor should they be judging books that they do not read?
With a heavy heart, I continue my analysis.
The two silliest (silliest!), published-in-Moscow (yes, in Moscow) little books
In Moscow, yes, in Moscow! Why is it reprehensible? To what end such a prank against Moscow, the third Rome? It was not for the first time that we noticed your peculiar hatred of Moscow in the publications Son of the Fatherland and Northern Bee. It is painful to the Russian soul to hear such testimonials about Mother Moscow, about white-stoned Moscow, about Moscow-stricken-in-1612-by-the-Poles, and in 1812 by riffraff.
Moscow to this day is the center of our enlightenment: in Moscow were born and raised, in large part, our native Russian writers—not immigrants, not transplants, for whom Bene ubi, ibi patria, for whom it doesn’t matter whether to desert under the French Eagle or to defame, using the Russian language, all things Russian, as long as their bellies are full.
What is Petersburg literature all puffed up about? Mr. Bulgarin? I agree that this great writer, equally respected for his talent and character, has earned immortal fame for himself, but the work of Mr. Orlov places the Moscow novelist, if not higher, at least on a par with his St. Petersburg rival. Despite the disagreement that reigns between Faddeus Venediktovich and Alexander Anfimovich, despite the righteous indignation aroused in me by the reckless lines in Son of the Fatherland, we shall attempt a comparison of these twin pillars of our literature.
Faddeus Venediktovich surpasses Alexander Anfimovich in enchanting ornamentation of expression; Alexander Anfimovich takes precedence over Faddeus Venediktovich in vividness and precision of story.
The novels of Faddeus Venediktovich are more thought out, they show the greater patience3 of the author (and require even more patience in the reader), the stories of Alexander Anfimovich are more concise, but more intricate and attractive.
Faddeus Venediktovich is more philosopher, Alexander Anfimovich more poet.
Faddeus Venediktovich is a genius, he both invented the name Vyzhigin and with this bold innovation vivified the stale imitations Sovestdral and English Lord; Alexander Anfimovich skillfully took advantage of the invention of Mr. Bulgarin and drew from the one endlessly varying effects!
Faddeus Venediktovich, it seems to us, is a little monotonous, for all his works are nothing other than Vyzhigin in different variations: Ivan Vyzhigin, Peter Vyzhigin, Dimitri the Self-Proclaimed or Vyzhigin of the XVII Century, his own notes and moral articlettes—it all lumps together under the same subject. Alexander Anfimovich is surprisingly diverse! Over myriad Vyzhigins, how many flowers he scattered on the field of literature! Meeting the Plague with Cholera; Falcon Would Have Been a Falcon, But a Chicken Ate Him, or a Fleeing Wife; Live Syncope; The Burial of the Merchant; etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.
Yet impartiality requires that we identify the aspect with which Faddeus Venediktovich takes an indisputable advantage over his happy rival: I understand the goal of his works. In fact, dear listeners, what could be more moral than the works of Bulgarin? From them, we clearly recognize how it is not commendable to lie, to steal and to indulge in drunkenness, card games and things similar. Mr. Bulgarin punishes the characters with assorted fancy names: The murderer was named by him Knife, the briber Briber, the fool Dull Eyes and things similar. Historical accuracy alone did not permit him to call Boris Godunov The One that Flaps the Ears, Dmitri the Self-Proclaimed Convict and Marina Mniszek The Slut Princess, but these characters are somewhat pale.
In this respect, Mr. Orlov decidedly lags behind Mr. Bulgarin. However, the most ardent admirers of Faddeus Venediktovich recognize in him a certain boredom, which is redeemed by edification, but the most zealous of the admirers of Alexander Anfimovich condemn it in him as, sometimes, recklessness, redeemed, however, by gusts of genius.
For all that, Alexander Anfimovich enjoys much less glory than Faddeus Venediktovich. What is the cause of this apparent inequality?
Resourcefulness, dear readers, resourcefulness. Faddeus Venediktovich, skillful comrade of Nikolai Ivanovich! Ivan Vyzhigin existed only in the imagination of the respected author, but already in Northern Archive, Northern Bee and Son of the Fatherland it had been spoken of with the highest praise. Mr. Ancelot in his journey to arouse in Paris everyone's attention, declared this still non-existent Ivan Vyzhigin the best of the Russian novels. Finally, Ivan Vyzhigin appeared and Son of the Fatherland, Northern Archive and Northern Bee praised it to heaven. All rushed to read it; many read it to the end, and yet praise of him did not die in every issue of the Northern Archive, Son of the Fatherland and Northern Bee. These diligent magazines kindly invited buyers, encouraged and incited the lazy readers; threatened revenge to ill-wishers who did not finish Ivan Vyzhigin out of a singularly ignoble envy.
Meanwhile, what auxiliary means did Alexander Anfimovich Orlov employ?
None, dear readers!
He did not host dinners for foreign writers who do not speak the Russian language, so as to receive in exchange for his hospitality some small mention in their travelogues.
He did not praise himself in the magazines that he himself published.
He did not lure subscribers and customers with undignified flattery and lush promises.
He did not forge newspaper announcements, written in the language of a poster for a dog comedy.
He did not respond to a single criticism, he did not call his critics fools, cowards, drunks, oysters, or anything similar.
So, did he, by using these means, disarm his numerous enemies? Not in the least. Here is how his brethren spoke of him:
"The author of the aforementioned works forcibly storms our poor Russian literature and he desires to destroy the Russian Parnassus not with bombs, but with scaffolds, with the help of subservient publishers who generously pay for each manuscript of this famous creator with twenty rubles of current coin, as was confirmed to us by knowledgeable booksellers.
The author is a man of science, as seen from the Latin phrases with which his creations are riddled, but their presence proves that he, as stated in The Minor, “fearing the abyss of wisdom, turned back." Even the notable work of pulp fiction The Mice are Burying the Cat, or Fiction in Faces is an Iliad when compared to the creations of author Orlov, and Bowa Korolevich is a hero to whose level our venerable author has not yet risen. [In literature, we have Derzhavin as Alpha and Orlov as Omega; that is the last link in a chain of literary creatures, and therefore deserving of attention, like everything odd.]4 His language, narrative and exposition are only on a par with the boldness of the author and the repulsive images with which these offspring of tastelessness are filled. Never would such works see the light of day in St. Petersburg, and not even a St. Petersburg street peddler of books (we are not talking about the booksellers) would undertake to publish them. By what right did Mr. Orlov dare to name his boys, steppe-dwellers of Khlynov, Ignat and Sidor, Ivan Vyzhigin’s children, and moreover at the very moment, that the author of Vyzhigin is publishing another novel by the same name? Never have such shitty pictures appeared in Russian. Long live Moscow publishers!" (Northern Bee, 1831, № 46).
What malicious and unfair criticism! We have already remarked on the indecency of the assaults on Moscow, but why then, here, rebuke the venerable Alexander Anfimovich? For the fact that for each of his works the booksellers pay him 20 rubles? What is this? It was pleasant for the unselfish heart of my friend to think that, having received 20 rubles, he gave to another a gain of 2,000.5 Meanwhile, some writer in St. Petersburg, having received for his manuscript 30,000, makes the recently-too-eager-to-overpay bookseller groan!
They placed on him the sin of knowing Latin. Of course: it is proven that Faddeus Venediktovich (who published Horace with pilfered footnotes) does not know Latin, but is he really obligated by his immortal fame to this ignorance? They say that Mr. Orlov is of the scientists. Of course: it is proven that Mr. Bulgarin is not learned, but again I repeat: is it really the case that ignorance is a virtue worthy of envy?
But even this is not enough: they forcibly demand an accounting from my friend: how dared he to appropriate for his own characters a name christened by Faddeus Venediktovich himself? But hadn’t A.S. Pushkin dared to breed all of the characters in his Boris Godunov from Mr. Bulgarin’s novel and even use many of the places in his tragedy (which was written, say, five years earlier, and is known to the public still only in manuscript form)?
I boldly appeal to the conscience of the very publishers of Northern Bee: Are these critics fair? Is Alexander Anfimovich Orlov guilty as charged?
But even more boldly—I appeal to the venerable Nikolai Ivanovich: Doesn’t he feel deep remorse, having insulted in vain a man with such excellent talent, who isn’t obligated to him, isn’t even known to him and who hasn’t written about him anything evil.6
Feophylakt Kosichkin.
Footnotes
1. See the Grammar of Grech, printed by the publisher Grech.
2. See analysis of O Lucifer in Son of the Fatherland.
3. Genius is patience in the highest degree, said the famous Byufon.
4. IMPORTANT perception! Please listen!
5. The historical truth!
6. Son of the Fatherland, № 27, p. 60.
