A Dog's Everyday Life is a fanfic based on the fandom "Historical Figures", "Historical Events", "Ivan the Terrible. But it was impossible to give the soldiers another command

Livonian War, the capture of Narva... I will not deprive you of my mercy, Alexey Danilovich, for the loyalty and courage shown in battles, - Ivan the Terrible proudly looked at Basmanov, placing his hand on his shoulder. Mother Rus' needed people who would stand up for their native land, not spare themselves on the battlefield, and fulfill the sovereign’s word as the word of God. The boyars' conspiracies were a bone in their throats, and their hearts were yearning for the devotion and courage of the Tsar's servants.

I heard that your son is fourteen years old. Good job?

Good, sir! Agile, fast, like a marten. And that’s the only way he wields a saber, playfully snapping his opponents on the nose with a whip! - Realizing where the tsar was going with this, Alexey Danilovich answered enthusiastically - despite the stupid childishness, unbecoming of a man, in battle the younger Basmanov was worthy of admiration. With a flexible and dangerous blade, he fought the enemy tribe, which against his background looked like a clumsy accumulation of shafts.

If so, Alexey Danilovich, let the bell serve me. Go!

A heavy hand tightly squeezed the back of his head, not allowing him to raise his head and raise his eyes - Fyodor’s gaze was buried in the toes of the royal boots, and his father’s quiet hiss burned his ears:

Bow down, fool, and don’t stare at the sovereign! Is there an extra head?!

Joy and curiosity raged in my heart. But the young man still obeyed, yielding to his father’s will. Unusual attire and untested weapons burned the skin, causing fussiness and a desire to show oneself, to give everything, to distinguish oneself in a new service. But the hand was unyielding in its grip - to be honest, the last thing Alexey Basmanov wanted was for his son to appear to the sovereign as an unreliable and rebellious man, to attract the angry gaze of a suspicious and merciless ruler.

But his fears were in vain. Grozny watched the youthful dreams with a slight smile, now so rarely appearing on his gloomy face. Basmanov’s valor was imprinted in his memory by the fire of loyalty and honor with which he so fiercely carried out the royal will. And in the son of this man, the king saw only the beginnings of a flame, a future fire, which, despite its strength, must submit to him.

Say your name.

His father's iron grip finally loosened, and Fyodor took this as a sign that he could move. But the tense muscles were cramped, and the lips were sealed with a seal of silence - neither move nor breathe. The sovereign's voice was immobilizing.

The young man shook like an aspen leaf in the wind, under the oppressive gaze of the ruler. Calling upon all his spirit to help, he looked at him, and, hesitating, lowered his gaze, quietly answering:

Fyodor, my lord.

Leaning forward like a hawk, Grozny grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look into his eyes. Fyodor did not dare to twitch. His sincerity attracted the king - it seemed that these eyes knew no lies: admiration, fear, unquenched audacity and devotion bordering on blind adoration. Like a dog that licks a beating hand, the young man looked at the king with wide eyes and now entrusted his life and will to him.

Do you, dog, swear allegiance to your sovereign, your lord, the viceroy of God on earth? - Goosebumps rose on the back of Fyodor’s neck, greedily catching the Tsar’s every word. The fingers firmly holding him hurt, but he did not notice it, reveling in the feeling of someone else's power over him, someone else's strength.

The freedom-loving spirit submitted to the stronger one, and the young man thought he heard the click of a collar closing around his neck.

For you, sir, I’m happy to give my life! - Fyodor exclaimed, falling on his face and immediately raising a burning, inspired gaze to the sovereign.

Alexey Basmanov, a silent block looking at the action taking place in front of him, shuddered noticeably - fear pierced his father’s heart, momentarily throwing off the indifferent mask from his rough and stern face. That fear was not definite, but penetrated to the very depths, giving rise to a vague apprehension about the correctness of his son’s choice.

You are impudent,” the Tsar ruffled his resin curls with a satisfied smile, “you will stand by my right hand, Fyodor.”

“We have been waiting for you for a long time,” he said. “You can leave us,” he added, turning to the policeman.

“I have some things left on the ship and two companions are waiting,” I said.

We will now see where to place you, then we will go on the ship. There are difficulties with the premises here.

He showed me two rooms: one for me and the other for the assistant. We went back to the pier to get our things and my companions. The guard from the local garrison again demanded my documents; in response to this demand, Colonel Kobylinsky presented his documents, and all conversations immediately stopped.

Finally, my assistants and I settled in Kornilov’s house, just opposite the governor’s house, where the family of the former tsar lived. Two small rooms were placed at my disposal: one for me personally, the other for the office.

On September 2 I went to the governor's house. Not wanting to violate decency, I told the former king’s valet to inform him of my arrival and that I wished to see the former king. The valet immediately carried out the order, opening the door to the former king's office.

Hello, said Nikolai Alexandrovich, extending his hand to me. -Did you arrive safely?

Thank you, okay,” I replied, extending my hand.

How is the health of Alexander Fedorovich Kerensky? - asked the former king.

There was some kind of genuine sincerity in this question, combined with sympathy, and even gratitude. I answered this question with a short answer and asked about the health of the former king and his entire family.

Nothing, thank God,” he answered, smiling.

It should be noted that the former king smiled throughout our conversation.

How did you settle in and settle in?

Not bad, although there are some inconveniences, but still not bad,” answered the former king. - Why aren’t we allowed to go to church or take a walk around the city? Are they really afraid that I will run away? I will never leave my family.

“I believe that such an attempt would only worsen your situation and that of your family,” I replied. - It will be possible to take you to church. I have permission for this, but as for walking around the city, for now this is hardly possible.

Why? - asked Nikolai Alexandrovich.

I don’t have the authority to do this, but it will be seen later. We need to find out the surrounding conditions.

The former king expressed bewilderment. He did not understand what I meant by environmental conditions. He understood them in the sense of isolation - and nothing more.

Can you let me cut wood? - he suddenly declared. - I love this kind of work.

Perhaps you would like to have a carpentry workshop? This work is more interesting,” I suggested.

No, I don’t like this kind of work, it’s better to order the forest to be brought to our yard and given a saw,” Nikolai Alexandrovich objected.

Tomorrow all this will be done.

Can I correspond with my family?

Certainly. Do you have books?

Even a lot, but for some reason we don’t receive foreign magazines - is this forbidden to us?

This is probably due to the post office. I'll make inquiries. In any case, your newspapers and magazines will not be delayed. “I would like to meet your family,” I said.

Please; “I’m sorry, I’m coming now,” the former king answered, leaving the office, leaving me alone for a few minutes.

The former king's office was a decently furnished room covered with a carpet; two tables: one a desk with books and papers, the other a simple one, on which lay a dozen pocket watches and pipes of various sizes; There are several paintings on the walls, and curtains on the windows.

“What is the state of health of the former autocrat, the ruler of a huge state, an unlimited king in this new situation?” - I involuntarily thought. At the meeting, he controlled himself so well, as if this new situation was not acutely felt by him, and did not seem associated with enormous deprivations and restrictions. Yes, the fate of people is a mystery. But who is to blame for her changes?.. Thoughts incoherently replaced one another and set me in some special mood, probably like anyone who had to be in a completely new role for him.

Please, Mr. Commissioner,” said Nikolai Alexandrovich, who appeared again.

I'm entering Big hall and to my horror I see the following picture: the entire family of the former tsar lined up in an orderly line, hands at their sides: Alexandra Fedorovna stood closest to the entrance to the hall, next to her was Alexei, then the princesses.

"What is this? Demonstration? - flashed through my head and confused me for a moment. “After all, this is how people in prison are lined up when they go around the authorities.” But I immediately pushed this thought away and began to say hello.

The former queen and her children briefly answered my greetings and all questions. Alexandra Fedorovna pronounced Russian words with a strong accent, and it was noticeable that the Russian language was practically difficult for her. Still, the children spoke excellent Russian.

How is your health, Alexey Nikolaevich? - I turned to the former heir.

Okay, thank you.

Have you never been to Siberia before? - I turned to the daughters of the former king and received a negative answer.

She is not as scary as many people say about her. The climate here is good, the weather is wonderful,” Nikolai Alexandrovich intervened, “it’s sunny almost all the time.”

What does St. Petersburg lack?

Yes, the climate of St. Petersburg could be the envy of Tobolsk, the former tsar added. -Won't it be cold to live here in winter? The hall is large.

We must try to prevent this from happening. All the stoves will have to be inspected and fixed. “And there is enough fuel here,” I answered, “there are no other suitable premises in the city.”

Do you have books? - I asked the princesses.

“We brought our library,” one of them answered.

If you have any statements, please contact me,” I said as I left.

That was the end of my first meeting with the family of the former king.

I don’t know what impression I made, but as for me, the first impression I made was that if this family lived in a different environment, and not in a palace with endless ceremonies and etiquettes, dulling the mind and fettering everything healthy and free , completely different people could emerge from them, except, of course, Alexandra Feodorovna. The latter made a very special impression on me. I immediately felt something alien to a Russian woman in her.

When sending Nicholas II and his family from Tsarskoye Selo, Kerensky allowed him to choose his retinue and employees. There was an incident. As you know, the heir Alexei had an uncle, the sailor Derevenko, a semi-literate but cunning little Russian who enjoyed Alexandra Feodorovna’s great confidence. Just before leaving, he submitted an account (to Colonel Kobylinsky) of expenses. The invoice showed that the son of Nicholas II had worn out more than 700 rubles worth of boots in July 1917. Colonel Krbylinsky was indignant and told sailor Derevenko that he would not be allowed into Tobolsk! The offended sailor complained to Alexandra Fedorovna, who immediately asked Kobylinsky to come and explain.

From the very first steps, Kerensky’s promise is violated - the right to choose people loyal to us,” she told Kobylinsky.

Do you consider the sailor to be loyal and selfless? - asked Kobylinsky.

Alexandra Feodorovna confirmed this. Then Kobylinsky presented her with a bill submitted by a devoted sailor. The former Tsar and Alexandra Feodorovna were embarrassed, but were not satisfied with this motive.

So Alexei’s devoted uncle remained in Petrograd.

Despite this, he repeatedly turned to me with written requests: when would he be summoned to Tobolsk to continue his official duties under the “heir”.

From the secular male staff with former king We went to Tobolsk: Count Tatishchev, Prince Dolgorukov, Doctor Botkin, who treated Alexandra Fedorovna, Doctor Derevenko, who treated Alexei and was considered a doctor of the special forces detachment, the Frenchman Gilliard and the Englishman Gibbs, the latter arrived in Tobolsk much later.

What do you say, Ivashka? - the lame marker Terenty asked him when Vanyushka appeared in the billiard room.

“Nothing,” Vanyushka responded and immediately said: “Do you know our Tipka?” Do you remember when you lived in our yard? He cheats at the Apraksin market.

Yah? - Terenty answered mechanically, taking the pocketed ball out of the pocket.

Taking a careful look at Terenty’s partner, Vanyushka became wary. He recognized the same four-fingered uncle Akim, whose order a year and a half ago he had not been able to fulfill.

Vanyushka listened to their conversation.

They played somehow wonderfully, accompanying each blow with a saying, putting into it some kind of meaning that only they themselves understood.

“I’m at Protopopov now,” Uncle Akim muttered, aiming at the ball standing at the side. - He now has no support in the Duma.

“And I’m in Trenev,” said Terenty, aiming at the ball with number nine. “He won’t last long in power.”

Vanyushka realized that they were talking about ministers and that the most important ball by number was none other than the Emperor. Undoubtedly, Uncle Akim had something to do with the incident in the factory canteen. He also allegorically told Terenty about this.

Aim at Nikolashka,” muttered Terenty, adjusting his blow more comfortably.

Uncle Akim grinned into his mustache.

Patience, friend,” he reassured Terenty. - You got burned at Rasputin, but you can’t cool it off with Purishkevich.

Uncle Akim also took aim at Nikolashka.

I told him... Miliukov... - he explained. - Did you hear what speech he made in the Duma?

Vanyushka walked around the players several times, peering inquisitively into Uncle Akim’s face; since then memorable day Vanyushka never met him again. I wanted to say to him loudly: “Hello, Uncle Akim... Have you probably forgotten me? I am Vanyushka Chulin. You gave me an order then... I rushed with him from the teahouse to the yard and back without any sense. And you took it and left.”

But, carried away by the game and conversation, Uncle Akim never paid attention to Vanyushka.

Coming out of the billiard room, Vanyushka went up to his favorite Michel. The electric orchestra thundered and played the waltz “On the Hills of Manchuria.” But Mikhel no longer stomped his feet or waved his arms. Some mechanism has gone bad inside the wooden man. They invited a repairman, and he also could not fix Michel. Frozen Mikhel stood with one arm raised, his patent-leather shoe put forward, and sadly looked at Vanyushka, as if complaining about his helpless state.

V-Vanyushka! - someone’s very familiar voice was heard.

Vanyushka turned around. Two front-line soldiers were sitting at the next table, drinking tea. One soldier is like a soldier, broad-shouldered, black-moustached, hefty, with a shaggy head. The other is very young, with a short haircut, not a soldier, but a boy in a soldier’s uniform, like two peas in a pod similar face to Tipka Tsar.

Vanyushka,” repeated the soldier, smiling broadly and friendlyly, “s-sit down and have tea with us!”

Unable to say anything, Vanyushka mechanically sat down on an empty chair. He couldn't believe his eyes.

D-don't you recognize? - asked the soldier. - It's me. Tsarev type.

On the green military tunic of the Tsar's type, a brand new St. George's Cross glittered on a three-color ribbon. Next to the Tsar, on another free chair, lay shaggy black soldier’s hats and a stick-stick with a rubber tip stood leaning against the wall.

How are you? - the Tsar asked Vanyushka, narrowing his eyes.

Fine...

Your spine? - the big black-mustachioed soldier inquired.

The king nodded affirmatively.

How did you... - Vanyushka finally found the power of speech. - Are you at war?

“I’m fighting,” the Tsar confirmed. - And you?

“And I’m studying at school,” Vanyushka sighed.

The conversation was getting better. The guy spoke simply and in few words.

R-they shot me in the leg. I was lying with Uncle Prokofy, we were fellow soldiers, in the infirmary. Now he is on the mend. I'll be checking out one of these days. I'll go to war again.

Vanyushka asked about the St. George Cross.

“Deserved it,” the Tsar answered modestly, without any boasting, smiling slightly. But his eyes sparkled at the same time. How he earned the St. George Cross, Tipka did not tell.

Vanyushka still did not take his eyes off the silver “George” glittering on the Tsar’s tunic. He was ready to give half his life just to pin such a St. George's Cross on his chest.

W-went to see my aunt... Ivanikha, and we have strangers living there. D-don't know where she is?

No, no. - Vanyushka shook his head vigorously. Since Ivanikha and Tipka were taken to the police a year and a half ago, she has not been seen in the yard anymore.

After briefly questioning Vanyushka, the Tsar took his hockey stick and, visibly limping, walked with his colleague to the exit.

Vanyushka, having dressed, walked him to the door. When leaving, Tipka promised to visit the Skobsky Palace again soon.

Apparently, the Tsar was in no hurry to leave for the front. Vanyushka still stood on the street, now dreaming of meeting the Flower. Not far away there was a bell ringing. It was in St. Andrew's Cathedral that they rang for Vespers.

“Well, Flower, now I’ll break you!” - he thought.

More than ten years before his appearance before the Tsar in 1905, Rasputin went through an enormous school of life and asceticism. It’s enough to imagine what enormous forces and the pilgrimage was worth the trials. He went to distant places not in a carriage, not on an express train, not with a checkbook in his breast pocket. There was no money, no food, there was only one burning desire to find the path to the light, to the truth.

Walking for long weeks and months in any weather, enduring cold and hunger, covering hundreds and thousands of miles - only the pilgrimage on foot from Pokrovsky to the Kiev Pechersk Lavra lasted almost six months, during which he managed to cover almost three thousand miles! And having achieved the goal, at the altar in the Christian shrine you will find joy and new strength.

He ate whatever was available, whatever was served, and sometimes just grass, and several times he almost fell victim to “dashing people” and barely escaped with his legs. It was a feat of humility and self-sacrifice, which only truly believing people are capable of. Such pilgrimages could not bring any benefits, and Rasputin was often falsely credited with cunning prudence.

Close friend the last Queen Julia (Lily) Dehn, having lived many years after the revolution in England, in her memoirs tried to explain to the English reader the spiritual atmosphere of Russia. “If any pilgrim had decided to make the same journey from Edinburgh to London, he would have been convicted of vagrancy and, most likely, sent to a madhouse. Cases of this kind are unheard of in England, but in Russia similar things happened all the time. We are so accustomed to everything unusual that I believe that a Russian man in the street would not be at all surprised if he met Archangel Gabriel on the street!”

Rasputin, for all his spiritual orientation, still had earthly interests: home, wife, children, taking care of the household. When his son began to regularly go traveling, his father did not approve and scolded him, but this did not stop Gregory. The father reconciled himself, especially since gradually voluntary helpers appeared on the farm (they did not take men into service), helping the owners for shelter and board.

It is quite possible that Rasputin, with his abilities and prayerful zeal, would have remained in best case scenario celebrity of his region, if Divine Providence had not been pleased to bring him together with persons who were at an incredible social height. An important clarification needs to be made here. Rasputin himself never deliberately “messed up” anywhere; He was helped everywhere by numerous patrons and admirers of his natural naturalness and unusual talents. Rasputin himself colorfully spoke about how he managed to appear at the residences of high-ranking officials.

“I leave the Alexander Nevsky Lavra and ask a certain bishop of the Theological Academy, Sergius. The police approached, “what a friend you are to the bishop, you are a hooligan, buddy.” By the grace of God, I ran through the back gate and found the doorman with the help of the gatekeepers. The doorman showed me the mercy of punching me in the neck; I knelt before him, he understood something special about me and reported to the bishop, the bishop called me, saw me, and then we began to talk.”

In his lifetime, Rasputin managed to charm and conquer the souls of several major church leaders who had deep faith, an outlook, and versatile knowledge. It was they who brought this man into the light, giving him the best certifications. True, later, under the influence of public hysteria, some not only broke off their relations with Rasputin, distanced themselves from him, but even took part in a campaign to discredit, or, more simply put, to defame Rasputin.

Since the beginning of the 20th century, certain chronological guidelines have appeared in the biography of Grigory Rasputin, making it possible to systematize his path to the top. He first came to St. Petersburg in 1903, having already managed to “conquer the heart” of the Kazan Bishop Chrysanf (Shchetkovsky), who recommended him to the rector of the St. Petersburg Theological Academy, Bishop Sergius (Stragorodsky), who, in turn, introduced Rasputin to the professor, Hieromonk Veniamin and inspector of the academy (then rector), Archimandrite Feofan (Bistrov). The latter was an affable man, a kind Christian, entirely occupied with pious service.

Rasputin moved in the circles of church hierarchs and students of the academy for quite a long time, went through “his own universities” here and, possessing a lively, tenacious mind and an excellent memory, learned a lot from communicating with them. Already by the beginning of 1905, Feofan felt deep sympathy for this Siberian peasant preacher, seeing in him the bearer of a new and true power of faith.

"Elder Gregory" produced strong impression and on a preacher famous at the beginning of the century, who had enormous moral authority in Russia - righteous John Kronstadtsky (1829–1908), who blessed him. Rasputin revered the memory of the “people's father” and called him “a great lamp and miracle worker.” In Pokrovskoye, on Rasputin’s table there was a large portrait of Father John. When Gregory was in St. Petersburg, he certainly visited the Ioannovsky Monastery on Karpovka, founded by John of Kronstadt, where the lamp of faith was buried. Grigory Rasputin not only prayed there, it was there that he found refuge when he arrived in St. Petersburg in 1904.

Confessor of Grand Duke Peter Nikolaevich and his wife Grand Duchess Militsa Nikolaevna Feofan introduced the “Siberian elder” into the grand ducal chambers. Around the Montenegrin princesses - Milica and her sister Anastasia (Stana) - there was a small circle of “seekers of faith”. The center was Milica, passionately devoted to the search deep meaning in the irrational, and even, in order to become familiar with the writings of Eastern mystics, she specially studied the languages ​​of the peoples of the East.

From Militsa's salon it was just a step to the Royal Palace. The meeting was supposed to take place, and it took place. This happened on November 1, 1905 in Peterhof. In Nicholas II’s diary for that day we read: “We drank tea with Militsa and Stana. We met a man of God - Gregory from Tobolsk province».

Spiritual experience, search for the righteous life path, which occupied and worried Rasputin, made an impression on all Orthodox natures. He was far from academic theology; he brought to people a reverent perception of the simplicity of the heart, which was dear and appreciated. As A.A. Vyrubova said in her testimony to the ChSK, he “preached the Word of God, spoke constantly. It was quite interesting. I even wrote down... Explained the Holy Scripture... He knew all the Holy Scripture, the Bible, everything. He told me a lot about his travels, a lot, to Jerusalem... all over Russia he walked in chains... All over Russia on foot in chains.”

Munya Golovina expressed her extremely emotional impression of meeting Rasputin. “For me this was the entrance to new world: I discovered my mentor in a peasant from Siberia, who, from the very beginning of our first conversation, amazed me with his insight. His regal look gray eyes was equivalent to him inner strength, which completely exposed the person standing in front of him. It was a great day for me: before telling me the truth regarding spiritual life, Grigory Rasputin forced me to renounce spiritualism..."

Until the end of 1907, meetings of the Imperial Couple with “Elder Gregory” were random and quite rare. The second meeting took place many months after the first, in the summer of 1906, when, having visited the estate of Anastasia Sergievka, they “saw Gregory” there. There was a joy from communication, as always in such cases. Here, for example, is Nikolai Alexandrovich’s entry dated June 19, 1907: “At 3 o’clock we went with Alix in her gig to Znamenka... We met Stana on the terrace in front of the palace, entered it and had the joy of seeing Gregory. We talked for about an hour and returned to Seba.”

We can confidently point to the time of rapprochement between the Royal Couple and the Siberian wanderer. This happened in October 1906, when Rasputin met the Tsar’s Children. Initially, Nicholas II agreed to briefly accept Gregory, who was going to transfer the miraculous image of Simeon of Verkhoturye to the Crown Bearers. Unexpectedly, the meeting dragged on, and Gregory for the first time conquered the Lord of the Power with his revelations and reflections.

The Emperor wrote about Rasputin to Prime Minister P. A. Stolypin “Peter Arkadyevich! The other day I received a peasant from the Tobolsk province, Grigory Rasputin, who presented Me with an icon of St. Simeon of Verkhoturye. He made a remarkably strong impression on Her Majesty and Me, so that instead of five minutes, the conversation with him lasted more than an hour!” So Rasputin entered Royal House and became a welcome guest there.

From the doctor's book historical sciences A. Bokhanov “The Truth about Grigory Rasputin.”

Lodyre, who is in love, meets the king of the Ethiopians, Strafokamil, and it is unknown why both begin to repeat: “For battle, for mortal combat.” They fight but mysteriously they are stopped by a strong Merino and orders:
Lay down your swords before me
And stop this fight!
to which the king replies:
Who are you, dressed as a Papuan,
What broke our peace with the bass?
For some reason Strafokamil dies, and everyone sings his funeral:
On our knees, we praise the hero!
"Wampuka" (The African Bride) - an exemplary opera in all respects" was successfully provided by Ehrenberg with his own illustrative music and ran endlessly with constant success. The actors, led by the then young V. A. Lepko, performed their roles well. The name of the heroine Vampuka, formed from some kind of verse with the refrain: “You have a fart, you have a fart, we brought you a bunch of flowers,” became a common noun for all kinds of theatrical nonsense.
In the spring of 1928, the theater false mirror“I was preparing for a trip to the USSR. Alexander Rafailovich was ill and could not accompany the theater. And he wrote a “Parting Word” to the theater, which, among other things, says:
“...“Curve Mirror” is a theater network that in no case allows: a) rudeness, b) vulgarity, c) negligence, “somehow”... The harsher and “rougher the situation,” the more delicately the theater must be treated. It happens here that they put butter on butter, and lard on lard, on comic device- a new, supposedly comic patch. It turns out to be bad taste and rudeness... You should especially avoid various inventions and improvisations in choral scenes. The chorus is funny only when it is strictly stylized... Now you are going on a long journey for several months, where you will not be stopped, where the audience is even less disciplined and sensitive, where a stupid burst of laughter may seem to you the true measure of success. This is not true. First of all, we need to find out whether the audience respects the theater where they will disappear. If yes, then you are on the right road; if not, you and the theater are heading into the abyss. Therefore, I ask you, comrades, to remember that you must respect the theater and yourself as an artist, and expect success from the public’s respect for the theater.
Secondly, don’t try to be “even better”, because such “the best is the enemy of the good” (Lessing), often not tested at rehearsal, is simply bad. Do not deviate a hair's breadth from the example of the first (not the first, but the first) performances......I ask you to listen to the impartial word of your comrades, not to be offended and to abandon the stupid “ethics”, as if good form in the theater is not to interfere with a friend’s performance. This must be taken with great restraint. And most importantly, there are no trifles in the theater. Everything is essential and important...
...Give me at least a little consolation, that out of a feeling of affection you will try to be artists, strict, scrupulous - it will still be easier for me...”
Kugel maintained this credo throughout his life.