p “I am with you this evening not only at the call of duty, being in charge of work with young writers, but also at the bidding of my heart.”

p This was how Mikhail Sholokhov began his speech in the House of Party Education in Rostov-on-Don on July 2, 1969. He was speaking to members of the Bulgarian-Soviet Club for Young Artists at one of their regular meetings; the general theme of the gathering was “The responsibility of the artist before history and the people”. His audience included young Bulgarian and Soviet writers, journalists, actors, directors, painters, sculptors, historians, architects, musicians and also guests of the club from Hungary, Poland, Rumania and Czechoslovakia.

p He enjoyed meeting young colleagues most of all, he said, because this gave him the opportunity of coming into contact with young people, of finding out what they were thinking and of joining them in reflecting on the responsibility of the writer 13 before society. He spoke about the role of the artist in the life of society in a world of ideological clashes, and of the artist’s mission and duty. Some of the things happening in literature worried him, he said, while others inspired him with confidence in the future of a literature that would serve the people, nurture patriots and internationalists and help build communism. He condemned a liberal attitude in literature towards anything that could have a corruptive influence on the youth, and talked of the fresh, healthy young voices now being heard in poetry and prose. He reminded his audience of Gorky’s question, which still has an immediate application: “Whose side are you on, master-craftsmen of culture?" Sympathetic advice, albeit uncompromising in character, and collective discussion were useful to the artist; it was essential that the writer should be extremely exacting towards himself and his art, Sholokhov said, and illustrated this by several examples drawn from his own experience while writing And Quiet Flows the Don, Virgin Soil Upturned and They Fought for Their Country. He emphasised several times that in addressing young people his aim was not to moralise but to hear what they had on their minds and to share with them the conclusions he himself had reached.

p Memorable too were the words of the well-known Bulgarian poet, Lyubomir Levchev, at the meeting:

p “The most important feature of this gathering has been meeting you. This has been its crown. Your books have nurtured and are continuing to nurture generations of Communists, generations of Komsomol members, generations of fighters. The most important Bulgarian writers have learned their craft from you. Some of them perished in the struggle for our freedom, others have devoted their entire lives to building socialism in our country, while still others are working and learning from you. There is a Bulgarian epic tale about ’the thousand magic wells’, which give sight to the blind and strength to the soldier, that he might attain victory. In meeting you we aimed, as it were, at reaching one of those wells, from which we might draw strength for our future work. Clearly, major tasks lie ahead of us, for which some, even if only a tiny part, of Sholokhov’s inspired truth and Sholokhov’s talent will be needed.”

p Sholokhov’s conversations with young writers from the Soviet Union and the socialist countries during June, 1967 in Veshenskaya took place in a similar atmosphere. While reflecting with his younger colleagues on modern literature and its indissoluble link with the life of society, on the principal problems connected with literary development in the modern age 14 and on the moral constitution of the artist and his duty before the people, Sholokhov spoke of young writers as the hope of our literature; it was vital to strengthen creative contacts between young and old writers. He called on the coming generation of Soviet writers to follow undeviatingly the best traditions of Soviet literature and to be uncompromising towards any manifestations of bourgeois ideology, and spoke of the constantly growing responsibility of the artist before society and of the devotion of the Soviet writer to the interests of the Party and the people.

p During an informal exchange of opinions on different creative problems the conversation turned to the question of the writer’s right to make mistakes. Sholokhov directed especial attention to this problem:

p “I think that no writer, irrespective of his eminence or age, should claim for himself a privileged position. As regards ’the freedom to make mistakes’, if a collective farm team leader makes a mistake the chairman of the farm will always put him right. This is a mistake of a local character and will not harm other people. The writer, in making a mistake in a published work, leads thousands of readers into error: therein lies the danger of our profession. Freedom of the spirit and creative freedom are all very well, but for heaven’s sake let us be more careful about mistakes. Every one of us is read, every one of us has, if not ’a universal readership’, as someone here put it, then certainly some thousands of highly attentive and demanding readers. Restless, unsettled spirits are to be found not only among writers, and a mistake—the more so if it is important, even a mistake arising from painful ponderings and thus justified in some degree for the given individual—leads to thousands of mistakes in thousands of destinies, in the outlooks of thousands of other people. Perhaps even a surgeon, if we are talking about the moral right to make a mistake, can have such a right while carrying out an operation: only one person will suffer. But when we ‘operate’ with specific material and make a mistake and this achieves wide currency, such a mistake, I repeat, is a thousand times more dangerous. We must be doubly cautious, and sometimes we should squash our restless spirits so that others are not harmed.”

p At the end of March 1969 the 5th All-Union Conference of Young Writers, which was held in Moscow, concluded its work. Sholokhov, who was passing through the city after returning from an overseas trip, invited some of the conference’s participants to visit him. They discussed the work of the conference 15 with him, its various sessions and seminars, and told him of the impressions it had made on them. Sholokhov wrote in the memorial book of the conference: “I am delighted at the success of the conference! As always, I wish young people achievement, daring and success.”

p During this meeting the conversation again turned to the many problems of life and to the creative paths along which young writers and poets were developing. Sholokhov warned them against devoting themselves exclusively to this work too early in life, and reminded them once again that no true artist could isolate himself from life. He stressed the importance of mastering every element of the writer’s craft and of doggedly struggling to bring to perfection every word in a composition.

p Conversations between Sholokhov and young writers revolve around the immediate problems of literature; the place of the artist in the life of the people and his duty before the present and the future are invariably discussed. The questions raised and the areas of human activity touched upon during encounters with, let us say, young factory workers or farmers, cosmonauts, soldiers, sailors, students, or in his correspondence with school-children are, of course, quite different.

p But all these meetings, whether in the flesh or on the printed page, come about “at the bidding of the heart" of a great writer and citizen, whose thoughts have always been turned towards the destiny of the younger generation, towards the future and towards the present in which the future of his own people is already being forged.

p At this point it seems appropriate to note some of the salient features in the creative life of the author of And Quiet Flows the Don and Virgin Soil Upturned. Sholokhov made his debut in literature as a writer of short sketches. These were followed by stories, which may be called a prelude to his great novels, and which first appeared in Soviet youth publications. Indeed, Sholokhov began his writing career by working for the Moscow youth newspaper Yunosheskaya Pravda (later re-named Molodoi Leninist), Zhurnal Krestyanskoi Molodyozhi and the journal Komsomoliya. He also contributed to an occasinal literary and artistic anthology published by the group of writers known as the Young Guard and his work appeared in Komsomolskaya Pravda and in the magazine Smena.

p Sholokhov has always remained faithful to the close links binding him to youth publications and publishers. In 1962 the Molodaya Gvardia (Young Guard) publishing house celebrated its fortieth anniversary and among the messages of 16 congratulation was a telegram from the writer: “I regret profoundly that pressure of work prevents me from attending this splendid celebration. Yours is the enormously important task of bringing up our youth and for this work we, the older generation of readers and writers, hold you in warm affection, value you highly and deeply respect you. Please accept from me, too, my best wishes of happiness in life and success in work to each one of you personally. Your reluctantly ageing Young Guard, Mikhail Sholokhov.” An inscription made in the visitors’ book of the publishing house the following year gently emphasises the continuity of Molodaya Gvardia traditions and the indissoluble links between the older and younger generations: “I am always happy to be in the company of Molodaya Gvardia’s younger authors! I seem to grow younger myself... .”

p The essential feature of these varied and numerous meetings is Sholokhov’s readiness to address his young readers not only through his books and the characters into whom he has breathed life, but also directly, in face-to-face exchanges of opinion.

p These meetings with Sholokhov are attended by all sorts of people: young writers, workers, farmers, soldiers, and also our celebrated Soviet cosmonauts. The late Yuri Gagarin, and Boris Volynov have been Sholokhov’s guests in Veshenskaya.

Sholokhov is strongly averse to “holding forth”, to adopting an academic or didactic tone and generally prefers to answer questions put to him personally. He likes to provoke a lively exchange between himself and his audience. The formal and uninterrupted method of expressing his thoughts is reserved for essays and newspaper articles, or for speeches before large audiences.