РОССІЙСКАЯ АНТОЛОГІЯ.

SPECIMENS
OF
THE RUSSIAN POETS:

TRANSLATED BY

JOHN BOWRING, F.L.S.

WITH PRELIMINARY REMARKS AND BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICES.

SECOND EDITION, WITH ADDITIONS.

London:

PRINTED FOR THE AUTHOR:

SOLD BY R. HUNTER, ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD;

AND A. CONSTABLE AND CO., EDINBURGH.

1821.

PRINTED BY R. AND A. TAYLOR,

SHOE-LANE, LONDON.

The first edition of this work was published without any strong expectations that it would excite attention. It has been received with singular indulgence, nay with flattering encouragement, and I trust it will be followed, at no distant period, by Specimens of the Poetry of other nations, which is as yet a stranger to our literature and language.

The objects of this publication have been in a great degree answered. Many of the Poets of Russia, whom I have ventured to introduce to my countrymen, have met with a cordial welcome, and their claims have been cheerfully admitted by the mighty [iv] arbiters of fame. For myself I own, that my hopes of the future progress of that vast empire in civilization and virtue and liberty have been greatly flattered, greatly increased by the observations which this little volume has served to elicit.

It must not, however, be forgotten, that this is a representation of nothing but the unformed and infant poetical literature of Russia. That literature had its birth but yesterday, and certainly its present strength and beauty give fair hope for to-morrow. In it are elements of improvement, and buds and blossoms of future expectation. They are scattered over “half a world,” and in due time will ripen, to encourage, to console, and to stimulate myriads and millions. It will then be an interesting task, to compare the maturer charms of Sclavonic song, with these its earliest gems.

Few subjects can be more complacent to the philanthropist than to trace the forward march of mind; peculiarly complacent where its progress is neither slow nor doubtful; where the stream of light spreads widening more and more over the whole surface of society; and more delightful yet, where the first rays of twilight break out of the thick darkness of long and dreary barbarism, and the day advances with sure and steady steps. Such were the circumstances under which Russia presented itself to my contemplation. It had emerged, as it were instantaneously, from a night of ignorance, to occupy a situation in the world of intellect, not contemptible, even when compared [viii] with that of southern nations; but singularly striking as contrasted with the almost universal ignorance which pervaded the immense empire of the Tzars, before Peter the Great, the Russian Colossus, as one of their poets calls him, gave it the first impulse towards civilization⁠[1]⁠. The foundation is now laid, on which the proud edifice of civilization will be raised. The moral vis inertiæ is in action: and the immense political influence which Russia has acquired, and seems likely to maintain, will be less appalling, at all events, to the moralist, if not to the statesman, than if wholly unaccompanied by a spirit of literature; while, on the other hand, it is consolatory to remember, that every instance which Russia affords of the advance of knowledge, is a pledge that [ix] the blessings of freedom and good government, which follow in the train of intellectual distinction, cannot be for ever shut out.

Lomonosov⁠[2] is the father of Russian poetry. It did not advance from step to step through various gradations of improvement, but received from his extraordinary genius an elevation and a purity which are singularly opposed to the barbarous compositions which preceded him. He did more than any other writer to fix the standard of language, and wielded a then uncouth and unformed idiom with singular address and power. A natural sense of harmony and beauty, made sublimer by early contemplation of the prophetic and the poetical compositions of the Old Testament, did more for his own fame, and for the future literary reputation of his country, than could have resulted from the closest acquaintance with the [x] great names of Greece or Rome. His style is singularly vigorous, and his works are distinguished throughout for their bold and impressive character. They have been collected into six volumes; and his name, as well as that of his rival Sumarokov, has already found its way, with some particulars of his life and writings, into our biographical dictionaries⁠[3]⁠.

Sumarokov, whose productions are very voluminous, and were once considered models of grace, beauty, and harmony, has been much neglected of late years. His dramatic compositions are, for the most part, gross and indecent; his contemptuous jealousy of Lomonosov, [xi] though so greatly his superior, is often most ridiculously intruding itself; but in one point of view, at least, he is entitled to respect and gratitude. He is the eldest of the Russian fabulists; the introducer of a species of composition, in which Russian poetry possesses treasures more varied and more valuable than that of any other nation. It is no mean praise to say, and it may be said truly, that Russia can produce more than one rival of the delightful La Fontaine. Of the dramatic writings of Sumarokov, the best is the tragedy Demitrĭj Samosvanelz, or The False Demetrius⁠[4]⁠, which has been translated into English.

Von Visin, who seems to have made Moliere his model, improved greatly upon Sumarokov. His two most celebrated comedies [xii] are Nedorosl, The Spoilt Youth, and Brigadir, The Brigadier⁠[5]⁠.

Kheraskov holds a high rank among the lyric poets of Russia. He died a few years ago. He was curator of the Moscow University. He published a collection of his poems, which he entitled Bakhariana, ili Neisviëstnĭj; Bachariana, or The Unknown; but his great work is Rossiada, ili Rasrushchenie Kasanij; The Russiad, or The Destruction of Kasan.

But of all the poets of Russia, Derzhavin is in my conception entitled to the very first place. His compositions breathe a high and sublime spirit; they are full of inspiration. [xiii] His versification is sonorous, original, characteristic; his subjects generally such as allowed him to give full scope to his ardent imagination and lofty conceptions. Of modern poets, he most resembles Klopstock: his Oda Bog, Ode on God, with the exception of some of the wonderful passages of the Old Testament, “written with a pen of fire,” and glowing with the brightness of heaven, passages of which Derzhavin has frequently availed himself, is one of the most impressive and sublime addresses I am acquainted with, on a subject so pre-eminently impressive and sublime. The first poem which excited the public attention to him was his Felitza.

Bogdanovich has obtained the title of the Russian Anacreon. His Dushenka (Psyche) is a graceful and lovely poem. I mean at some future time to give some extracts from this poem, with specimens of the Russian epics, and longer poetical compositions, which [xiv] I hope to collect into one volume. He has also written several dramatic pieces.

Bobrov was well acquainted with the literature of the South of Europe, and has transfused many of its beauties into his native tongue. Our English writers especially have given great assistance to his honest plagiarism. His Khersonida, an oriental epic poem, is not so good as Lalla Rookh, but it is very good notwithstanding.

Kapnist has written on a variety of subjects—odes, songs, romances and translations.

The name of Kostrov closes the list of the most eminent among the deceased poets of Russia. He died, not long ago, in the meridian of his days. He had made an admirable translation of Homer, and was engaged in a version of Ossian, which he left unfinished: the conclusion has since been added by Gnœdich.

Of all the living writers of Russia, or rather of all the writers Russia ever produced, the [xv] most successful and the most popular is Karamsin. Derzhavin called him long ago “the nightingale of poetry,” but it is not to his poetry alone that he owes his fame. Standing on the summit of modern literature in Russia, he has been loaded with honours and distinctions, which, however, have not served to check his wonted urbanity, or to chill his natural goodness of heart. When a young writer, he was fond of imitating Sterne⁠[6]⁠; a very bad model, it may be added, since the peculiarities which characterize him are only tolerable because they are original. Karamsin’s style was then usually abrupt and unnatural, and its sentimentality wearisome and affected. But he has outlived his errors, and established his reputation on their subjection. His great undertaking, the Rossijskaje Istorije (History of Russia), is, without comparison, [xvi] the first and best literary work which has been produced in the country it celebrates. It was received with loud eulogiums throughout the Russian empire; it has been translated into several European languages; and will probably long maintain a pre-eminent rank among Russian classics, and become one of the standard authorities of history⁠[7]⁠.

The peculiar excellence of the Russian fabulists has been mentioned. Sumarokov and Khemnitzer, Dmitriev and Krĭlov, are the most distinguished among them. Dmitriev, who is still living at Moscow, has published a [xvii] great number of fables and ballads, besides translations from the Latin and other languages. His style is easy, harmonious, and energetic: some of his compositions have a sublimer character; his religious poetry is dignified and solemn; his elegies are tender and affecting.

Krĭlov holds an office in the Imperial library at Petersburg. He is well known to the bons vivans of the English club. His heavy and unwieldy appearance is singularly contrasted with the shrewdness and the grace of his writings. He stings like a wasp, and flies laughingly away, but always leaves his sting behind him. He has published one volume of fables, remarkable for their spirit and originality. He now employs himself in translating Herodotus, having, at an advanced period of life, first entered on the study of the languages of ancient Greece and Rome.

Zhukovskij has printed some poetical translations of distinguished merit from the German, [xviii] French and English. Among these, his version of Gray’s elegy is entitled to particular praise. For the sake of comparison I give the epitaph.

This piece is one among very many translations from the English. The following verse from Goldsmith’s Edwin and Angelina will be perhaps recognised from its cadence alone.

[xix]

His Liudmilla (an imitation of Leonora) is deemed more beautiful and forcible than the original itself. He has written on a variety of subjects, and is now engaged as a companion to the Grand Dukes.

I believe Batiushkov is now in Italy. He has published translations from Tibullus and other classics. His most celebrated composition is his Address to his Penates, which will be found in the present volume. As it introduces in a very agreeable manner the most eminent of the Russian poets, and contains some allusion to Russian manners, it will not, I hope, be without interest to the English reader.

There are many other names which the narrow limits of this volume will not allow to be [xx] introduced at length. Mersljekov’s translations from the Greek and Latin classics: those of Gnœdich, Knjezhnin, Milonov, Volkov and Bunina from different sources: Rodsjenkai from Addison, and many others, have produced an admirable effect upon the taste of the nation, and given noble examples for the imitation of Russian bards.

I can scarcely hope to satisfy those who are masters of Russian literature. I have not always satisfied myself; for, far from any feelings of self-complacency, to do full justice to some of the poets of Russia has been beyond the compass of my powers. In the instance of Bogdanovich, especially, the charm I have felt, I have not been able to convey.

No one can be more alive than I am to the extreme difficulty of communicating to a foreign version the peculiar characters of the original. The grace, the harmony, the happy arrangement, the striking adaptation of words [xxi] to ideas; every thing, in fact, except the primary and naked thought, requires for its perfect communication a genius equal to its first conception: and, in truth, there are but few instances of enduring and deserved reputation dependent only on successful poetical translations, unaided by the merits of distinguished original works.

One thing, however, is certain; I have intended no wrong,—I hope I have done no wrong, to the names and to the works I now introduce to my countrymen; I mean only to be an honest, conscientious interpreter. Many of the charms of their compositions have probably escaped me: their faults, I am afraid, are but too faithfully rendered; I have discovered many, but I dared not meddle with them.

The measure of the original has been generally preserved. This adhesion to one of the distinguishing characters of poetical composition [xxii] has been made of late quite a point of conscience in Germany (a country which possesses a greater number of excellent and faithful translations than all the united world besides); and as far as the genius of the language will admit, I hope it will become so in England⁠[8]⁠. It would have been well if our early translators had been more honest and correct in this particular—their aberrations have given a [xxiii] sort of sanction to the wanderings of others. The future poets of Russia have excellent precursors to study, especially as regards the fidelity of their early versions.

A few words on the peculiarities of the Russian language will not, perhaps, be misplaced⁠[9]⁠.

The mother-tongue of nearly forty millions of human beings, and which in the course of thirteen centuries has undergone no radical change, is indeed entitled to some attention. All Russian grammarians claim for it an antiquity at least equal to that of the city of Novogorod. The oldest written documents that exist are two treaties with the Greek emperors, made by Oleg, A.D. 912, and Igor, A.D. 943. Christianity, introduced into Russia at the beginning of the eleventh century by Vladimir the Great, brought with it many words of [xxiv] Greek origin. The Tartars added considerably to the vocabulary during the two centuries of their domination. The intercourse which Peter the Great established with foreign nations, increased it still more; and of late years a great number of words have been amalgamated with it from the French, German, and English. It is now one of the richest, if not the richest, of all the European languages, and contains a multitude of words which can only be expressed by compounds and redundant definitions in any northern tongues. Schlözer calculates, that of the five hundred roots on which the modern Russ is raised, three-fourths of the number are derived from Greek, Latin, and German. Many are of Sans-crit origin, of which Adelung published a list in 1811⁠[10]⁠.

Printing was introduced into Russia about the middle of the sixteenth century. The oldest printed book which has been discovered [xxv] is a Sclavonic Psalter, bearing the date Kiev, 1551; two years after, a press was established in Moscow. The Sclavonic alphabet, said to have been introduced by Cyrillus in the ninth century, consists of forty-two letters. The modern Russ has only thirty-five: those unknown to the English are as follows:

[xxvii]

Besides these, there are several letters which seem almost identical as to sound.

Of the above,

Ѳ (theta) and Ѵ (upsilon) form a part of the Russian alphabet, but are seldom used. h⁠[22]⁠, c⁠[23]⁠, x⁠[24]⁠, f⁠[25]⁠, w⁠[26]⁠, are wanting altogether.

[xxviii]

The Russian language may be adapted to almost every species of versification. It is flexible, harmonious, full of rhythmus, rich in compounds, and possesses all the elements of poetry. From the following examples in different measures, some idea may be formed of its natural music.

ADONICS OF FIVE SYLLABLES.

[xxix]

TROCHAICS OF SEVEN AND EIGHT SYLLABLES.

IAMBICS OF SIX AND SEVEN SYLLABLES.

DACTYLICS OF SEVEN AND EIGHT SYLLABLES.

ALEXANDRINES.

HEXAMETERS AND PENTAMETERS.

Rimes are either masculine or feminine; the former have the accent on the last syllable, the latter on the penultimate:

[xxxi]

The productions of the Russian press are no index to the national cultivation. The great majority of that extensive empire are yet little removed from the uncivilized and brutish state in which they were left by the Ruriks and the Vladimirs of other times. Unfortunately, society has few gradations; and there is no influence so unfriendly to improvement, no state of things so hopeless, as that produced by a domestic slavery built upon the habits of ages. In Russia, the next step from absolute dependence is nobility; at least, the intermediate classes are very inconsiderable. The strength, the intelligence, the public and the private virtue, of our middling ranks, which [xxxii] serve so admirably to cement the social edifice, are there wanting. All sympathy is partial and exclusive. In this country, the spirit of information, wherever elicited, rapidly spreads over and glows in every link of the electrical chain of society. It mounts aspiringly, if it have its origin among the less privileged orders; and it descends through all the beautiful gradations of rank, when it has its birth in the higher circles: it is diffusive—it is all-enlightening. But in Russia, however bright the flame, it is pent up, it cannot spread. The noble associates with the noble: the slave herds with the slave; but man has no communion with man. No spot is there, whether sacred to science or to virtue, in which the “rich and poor” may “meet together,” equalized though but for a moment, as if the common Father were indeed “the Maker of all;” and assuredly the Russian nation can make no striking progress in civilization till the terrible barriers which so completely separate the different [xxxiii] ranks are destroyed. The million, uninstructed and unambitious, will, it is to be feared, be long held in the fetters of vassalage. The personal interests of the ruling few are too clearly, too fatally opposed to the melioration of the subject many, to allow any thing to be hoped for from these Lords of the soil. There are, it must be confessed, active minds, generous energies, at work; but where is their influence seen? To lead such an immense nation through the different stages of improvement, to rational and permanent liberty, were indeed an object worthy of the most aspiring, the most glorious ambition. It were an achievement not to be hailed by the blast of trumpet, nor the roar of artillery; (the world, recovering from its drunken infatuation, is well nigh weary of the unholy triumphs which have been thus celebrated;) it were an achievement which would hand down the name of him who should effect it to future ages, linked with the gratitude, the virtue, the happiness, [xxxiv] of successive and long enduring generations.

I must not, however, be misunderstood. The language of despondency, as to the progressive improvement and ultimate civilization of Russia, would be unwarrantable and insincere. If, in the vassalage which depresses and degrades the most numerous class in that country, we look in vain for any redeeming circumstance, to create or to encourage the expectation of a speedy and considerable change; still there is little fear of active opposition to the progress of truth and knowledge, among the immense majority of the people; that is, among the hereditary slaves. They are an inert, unintellectual mass, who, though they will not probably make sufficient advances, under the present system, to bring about any very perceptible improvement themselves, will certainly be little disposed to take any measures in support of an arbitrary system, or to offer any resistance to those changes whose benign [xxxv] effects they would so speedily feel. But, as far as they are concerned, improvement must follow, rather than lead to, any important melioration. A middle class, as yet neither numerous nor powerful, is withal growing up in Russia; by and by, they will form the link between the oppressor and the oppressed. The pride of the first will be brought down; the ambition of the last will be excited. Bosoms will begin to glow with hope and ardor, which are now frozen beneath the wintry touch of bondage; and Russia, full as she is of the materials out of which great minds are formed, may yet perhaps take her stand in intellectual eminence among the nations of Europe, at no distant period.

For the interesting notices at the close of this volume I am indebted to my illustrious friend Von Adelung. Thus to thank him is the least return I can make.

J. B.

[xxxvi]

Derzhavin.

[3]

GOD⁠[1]⁠.

[10]

ON THE DEATH OF MESHCHERSKY.

[15]

THE WATERFALL.

[41]

THE LORD AND THE JUDGE⁠[15]⁠.

[43]

ON THE DEATH OF COUNT ORLOV.

[44]

SONG.

TO MY PENATES.

EVENING REFLECTIONS, ON THE MAJESTY OF GOD, ON SEEING THE GREAT NORTHERN LIGHTS.

THE MARINER.

[76]

ÆOLUS’S HARP⁠[1]⁠.

[98]

SONG.

[100]

ROMANCE.

[102]

THE SONG OF BORNHOLM.

[108]

THE CHURCH-YARD.

[111]

AUTUMN.

[114]

LILEA.

[116]

EPIGRAM.

TO NICANDER.

DURING A THUNDER-STORM.

[121]

THE TZAR AND THE TWO SHEPHERDS.

[125]

THE BROKEN FIDDLE.

[126]

OVER THE GRAVE OF BOGDANOVICH,
AUTHOR OF THE BEAUTIFUL POEM PSYCHE.

[127]

LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP.

[128]

THE ASS AND THE NIGHTINGALE⁠[1]⁠.

[134]

THE SWAN, THE PIKE, AND THE CRAB.

THE HOUSE-BUILDER.

[139]

THE RICH AND THE POOR MAN.

[142]

THE LION’S COUNCIL OF STATE.

[144]

THE WAGGONS.

ADDRESS TO THE DEITY.

From the Khersonida, p. 41-3.

[151]

MEDINA.

From the Khersonida.

[153]

SHEIK-HUIABIS CREED,

AS DESCRIBED BY THE CHERIF.

From the Khersonida.

[155]

THE GOLDEN PALACE.

CHERTOG TVOI VIZHDU.

SUNG AT MIDNIGHT IN THE GREEK CHURCHES THE LAST WEEK BEFORE EASTER.

From the Sclavonic.

[156]

MIDNIGHT HYMN

OF THE RUSSIAN CHURCHES, SUNG AT EASTER.

[157]

IZHE KHERUVIMIJ,
OR SONG OF CHERUBIM.

THE HYMN CHANTED IN THE RUSSIAN CHURCHES DURING THE PROCESSION OF THE CUP.

[158]

CHILDREN’S OFFERING ON A PARENT’S BIRTH-DAY.

[159]

RULES FOR THE HEART AND THE UNDERSTANDING.

1.

2.

3.

4.

[160]

5.

6.

7.

8.

9.

10.

[161]

11.

12.

[162]

FROM THE DUSHENKA.—p. 8.

[167]

FROM THE DUSHENKA.—p. 49.

[168]

THE INEXPERIENCED SHEPHERDESS.

A POPULAR SONG.

[171]

SONG FROM THE OLD RUSSIAN.

[172]

SONG FROM THE OLD RUSSIAN.

WISDOM.

THE VOW.

[182]

HISTORY OF MAN.

ANONYMOUS.

SONG.

[187]

SONG.

[190]

SONG.

I.

[195]

II.

ABSENCE.

[197]

III.

[199]

IV.⁠[2]

[201]

V.

[202]

VI.

DIRGE.

LOMONOSOV.

Michael Vassiljevich Lomonosov was born in Cholmognie in 1711. He was the son of a sailor. He studied Latin and Greek, rhetoric and poetry, in Sakonospaskoe Uchilishchœ. In 1734 he entered the imperial academy, and two years afterwards was sent to Germany as a student. On his return to Petersburg he was appointed to the professorship of Chemistry; in 1751 he was made associate of the academy, and in 1760 called to the directorship of the academical gymnasium and of the university. He died in 1765.

The Petersburg Academy of Sciences published a complete collection of his works, in sixteen volumes, [206] which reached a third edition in 1804. They comprise the following remarkable list, exhibiting a rare diversity of subjects: among them his prose productions are: Kratkii Lœtopisetz, Short Russian Annals; Drevnjeje Rossiiskaje Istorije, Oldest Russian History, from the beginning of the Russian people to the death of the great prince Jaropolk the First, i. e. down to the year 1054; Rossiiskaje Grammatika, Russian Grammar; Kratkoe Rukovodetvo k Krasnorœchiiu, Short Introduction to Rhetoric; Pismo o pravilakh Rossiiskago Stikhomvorstva, Letter on the Rules of Russian Poetry; Predislovie o polzœ Knig Tzerkovnĭkh, Remarks on the Uses of Church-Books; Slovo Pokhvalnoe Imperatritzœ Elisavetœ I., Eulogium on the Empress Elizabeth (which he himself translated into Latin); Slovo pokhvalnoe Imperatoru Petru Velikomu, Eulogium on Peter the Great; Slovo o polzœ Khimii, On the Use of Chemistry; Slovo o jevlenijekh vosdushnĭkh ot Elektricheskoi silĭ proizkhodjeshchikh, On Electrical Phenomena; Slovo o proizkhozhdenii sœta novuiu teriiu o tzvœtakh predstavljeiushchee, On the Origin of Light, exhibiting the new theory of Colours; Slovo o pozhdenii [207] Metallov ot trjesenije zemli, On the Changes produced on Metals by earthquakes; Rosuzhdenie o bolshei tochnosti Morskago puti, On the means of obtaining the greatest correctness in Sea Voyages; Jevlenie Venerĭ na solntzœ, Appearance of Venus on the Sun’s Disk; Programma sochinennaje tri nachalæ chenije is jesnenije Phisiki, Programma, introductory to Lectures on Physic; Opisanie v nachalœ 1744 goda jevivshijesje Kometĭ, Description of the Comet of 1744; Pervĭje osnovanije Metallurgii, Introduction to Metallurgy; Shestnadtzat’ piset k J. J. Shuvalovu, Sixteen Letters to J. J. Shuvalov.

His poems are—two books of an Heroic Epic entitled Peter Velikii, Peter the Great; Tamira i Selim, a Tragedy; Demophont, a Tragedy; Pismo o Pol’sœ Stekla, A Poetical Epistle on the Merits of Glass, addressed to Shuvalov, of which a French prose translation was published in Paris in 1800; Oda na Shchastiee, Ode to Happiness, from the French of J. B. Rousseau; Vanchannaje nadezhda Rossiiskoi Imperii, The Garlanded Hope of the Russian Empire, from the German of Professor Junker; eleven spiritual odes; encomiastic odes; [208] forty-nine laudatory inscriptions; poem on a firework; Polydore, an Idyl, and sundry smaller pieces; imitations of Anacreon, poetical epistles, translations, &c. &c.

Besides his philosophical prose writings, he published Rasgovor v tzarstvœ Mertvĭkh, Dialogue in the Realms of Death, between Alexander the Great, Hannibal, and Scipio, from the Greek of Lucian; and Rasgavor utro, A Discourse on Morning, from Erasmus.

[209]

DERZHAVIN.

Gabriel Romanovich Derzhavin was born at Kasan on the 3d of July, 1736. The elements of instruction were given to him in the house of his parents; he then studied in private academies, and afterwards completed his education in the imperial gymnasium. In 1760 he was inscribed in the engineer military service; and in the following year, as a reward for his great progress in the mathematics, and for his excellent description of the Bulgarian ruins on the banks of the Wolga, he was placed in the ranks of the Preobrashenshe regiment. From the year 1762 he was promoted through the different gradations to the rank of ensign, which he held in 1772, and he obtained great credit for his prudence and ability while engaged as lieutenant in the corps sent to reduce Pugachev in 1774. He advanced uninterruptedly in his military career till in 1784 he was made a counsellor of state, and appointed to the [210] government first of Oloretz and afterwards of Tambov. In 1791 the Empress Catherine the Second gave him the office of secretary of state; in 1793 he was called to the senate, and the next year he was made president of the college of Commerce. In the year 1800 he was appointed to the post of public cashier, and in 1802 to that of minister of justice. His official career was soon after closed by his retiring on his full allowance, in the evening of his days, to the enjoyment of the fruits of his long and active labours.

Such a life would appear little calculated for the pursuit of intellectual pleasures, or for the cultivation of poetical talents; but the energies of these seem to be alike uninfluenced by the burthens of pomp or the privations of poverty. None is too high to bend down to the attractive voice of song—none too low to be raised by the awakening call of the lyre.

The most celebrated compositions of Derzhavin are, his Ode to God; Felitza; On the Birth of Alexander; The First Neighbour; On the Death of Count Meshchersky; On the Swedish Peace; The Fountain; The Waterfall; Autumn; and the Anacreontic Songs. His Poems were printed in four volumes in 1808.

[211]

Of his prose works (his official ones of course excepted) the most celebrated are: Rœch ot litza Kazanskago Dvorjenstva Imperatritzœ Ekaterinœ II., Address of the Kasan Eagle to the Empress Catherine the Second; Topographicheskoe Opshanie Tambovskoi Gubernii, Topographical Description of the Tambov Government; Rœch na otkrĭtie v Tambovœ Narodnago Ichilishcha, Address on the opening of the Tambov Public School, republished in Petersburg, and translated into several languages; Razsuzhdenie o Liricheskom Stikhotvorstvœ, On Lyric Poetry, published by a Society of Amateurs of Russian Literature in 1811.

[212]

BOGDANOVICH.

TRANSLATED FROM KARAMSIN’S VŒSTNIK⁠[1]⁠.

Hippolïtus Bogdanovich was born under the beautiful heaven of Little Russia, in the village of Perevolotchno, in the year 1743. His father was a respectable physician, to whose affectionate care and to that of an excellent mother he owed the first rudiments of knowledge. The talents which often require long years to ripen and to perfect, sometimes exhibit their blossoms in very early youth, and Bogdanovich while quite a child showed a passionate fondness for reading and writing, for music and poetry.

He was brought to Moscow in 1754, and placed in the college of justice. The President Sheljebushsky noticed the active and inquiring spirit of the boy, and allowed him to attend the mathematical [213] school, which was at that time in the neighbourhood of the senate. But mathematics were nothing to him;—the sweet poetry of Lomonosov, who now began to captivate his countrymen, was dearer to his mind than all the transpositions of lines or figures. Nothing, perhaps, is so likely to produce a strong and permanent impression on the heart of a young enthusiast, as the pomp, parade, and poetry of the Drama. What wonder then that a fiery boy, introduced for the first time to its witcheries, should be led to some act of giddy imprudence! A youth of fifteen once presented himself to the director of the Moskow theatre, modestly and almost unwillingly owning—he was a nobleman—he would be an actor. The director had some conversation with him, and soon ascertained his love of knowledge and his poetical ardour. He painted in strong colours the incompatibility of an actor’s character with that of nobility,—he urged him to inscribe himself in the university, and to visit him at his house. This young man was no other than our Bogdanovich,—that director was no other than Michael Matveevich Kheraskov, the poet of the Russiad. Thus did a lucky accident bring this scholar of the muses to their favourite [214] bard; one who, possessed of extraordinary talent himself, was not slow to discover and to honour it in others. From him did Bogdanovich learn the rules and the ornaments of poetry; he studied foreign languages, and acquired whatever else might give strength and encouragement to his natural powers. Study, it is true, is no creator of genius, but it serves to exhibit it in all its most beautiful and mighty influence. Kheraskov gave him examples, precepts, encouragements; and in the university-journal of this period, Polesnoe Uveselenie, we find many specimens of the powers of the young bard. These, though yet far removed from perfection, are striking proofs of his ability to reach it.

Besides Kheraskov, our young poet possessed, while he remained at the university, another invaluable protector in Count Michael Ivanovich Dashkov. The favours conferred by rank and influence on talents just developing themselves, create a grateful and well-rewarding return; while, on the other hand, the fair and delicate flowers of youthful genius are but too often and too early blasted by the cold winds of neglect. But let it be said in Russia’s honour, that talent has never wanted patronage there, especially [215] if accompanied by moral worth. This was eminently the case with Bogdanovich. Like La Fontaine, in whose poetical steps he seems to have trodden, he was distinguished by the most attractive ingenuousness. Ere he was eighteen he held his station in the great and busy world, but held it with the simplicity of a child. Whatever he felt he uttered, whatever pleased him he did; he listened willingly to the wisdom of others, and fell asleep during the tiresome lessons of folly. It was our young bard’s good fortune to live with a poet who exacted the productions of his muse as the price of his protection and his counsels, leaving every thing else to his own waywardness. His open heartedness often led him into perplexities, but no sooner did he perceive that his conversation had inflicted on any a feeling or thought of sorrow than he lamented his inconsiderateness with tears. He determined again and again to talk more warily; the resolution was, however, soon forgotten, and succeeded by regret and repentance and renewed vows.

He was not rich; he often had nothing to give the poor but sympathy. Is not this often more grateful to the receiver, and always more honourable to the [216] giver, than the pieces of gold extorted by misery from the coldness of pride and of affluence? Towards his friends and acquaintances he was kindness and urbanity itself. On one occasion a fire broke out in the neighbourhood of one of his connexions. Bogdanovich sprung from his bed, and, in spite of the bad weather and the distance, hurried to the assistance of his friend, clad only in his night garment.

His dwelling was with an estimable family, who treated him as a near and dear relative, and he returned their kindness with ever-active affection.

We must here linger a little on one mark of character, common indeed to all genuine poets;—a lively sensibility to female charms, a sensibility which has been the creator of some of the sweetest songs of the choir of bards. In one who, like Bogdanovich, was born to be the poet of the graces, this mighty sympathy could not but be early developed among the sensibilities of his character. In its origin it is timid and unpretending—in him it was peculiarly so. He saw, he felt, he supplicated, he blushed—and uttered his emotions in his harmonious songs. Stern indeed must have been the beauty that could not be moved by that melodious lyre!

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In 1761 Bogdanovich was appointed inspector of the Moscow university, with the rank of officer. Soon after he was joined to the commission appointed to make the arrangements for celebrating the coronation of Catherine the Second, in Moscow. He was fixed on for preparing the inscriptions on the triumphal gates and arches. In 1763, through the recommendation of the Countess Dashkov, he was employed by Panin as a translator; and at this period he published a journal entitled, Nevinnoe Uprashnenie, Innocent Recreation, to which his protectress, and the protectress of literature, of native literature especially, most generously contributed. And now our poet soared in loftier flights: he translated most felicitously many of Voltaire’s poems, especially that on the Destruction of Lisbon, in which his version has added greatly to the beauty and the strength of the original. A number of pieces, distinguished for the exquisiteness of the feeling and the peculiar harmony of the expression, directed the public attention to him. Among these is that beautiful song to Climene:

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In 1765 he published a poem with the title, The Doubled Bliss. It is divided into three parts, the first of which is a description of the golden age; the second, a history of the progress of civilization and of knowledge, with pictures of the misdirection and misuse of the human passions; the last, on the salutary influence of laws and governments. This undertaking was too vast for the youthful strength of the poet. The work had some redeeming beauties, but it made little impression upon society in general. At this period, notwithstanding, the laurels were rapidly growing that were to crown the brow of Bogdanovich;—but those laurels were then unnoticed.

In 1766 he went with Count Beloselsky as secretary of legation to Dresden. The amiable character of this ambassador, the brilliant society which he took with him and gathered round him, the attractive and picturesque neighbourhood of his dwelling, and his high appreciation of the arts, made the poet’s abode so delightful to him that it left the fairest record on his memory, and produced a happy influence on the character of his writings. While he wandered enchanted on the flowery borders of the Elbe, whose nymphs, worthy of that magnificent [219] stream, excited all the strength of his glowing fancy; while the works of Correggio, Rubens, and Paul Veronese charmed his eye and guided his mind in the beautiful creation of his Dushenka, which now engaged it; he was at the same time busied in writing a Description of Germany, and in all the duties of his office he united the charms of a man of the world, a friend of science, and a poet.

He left Dresden in 1768 and hastened back to his own country, devoting himself wholly to the cultivation of knowledge and the charms of song. He translated many articles from the Encyclopédie, Vertot’s History of the Changes of the Roman Republic, St. Pierre’s Treatise on Permanent Peace, and the Poem of an Italian writer, Michael Angelo Gignetti, then settled at Petersburg. The subject was Catherine the Great, which led to his introduction to that empress. He next published a periodical, of which sixteen numbers appeared (Vœstnik Petersburgsky); and at last, in 1775, he laid his beautiful poem Dushenka on the altar of the Graces. He ever afterwards spoke with enthusiastic delight of that part of his life which had been employed in this work. His abode was then at Petersburg, [220] on the Vassiliostrov, in a silent solitary dwelling, wholly rapt in poetry and music, enjoying an enviable and care-divested liberty. He had agreeable acquaintances;—he sometimes went out, but always to return with keener pleasure to a home where the muses welcomed him with renewed fondness, with hope and fancy’s fairest flowers. The tranquil, unuttered, unutterable joy of the poet is perhaps the sweetest and brightest that this world can witness. How triumphantly do the favoured sons of song scatter the misty shades of vanity and the more palpable array of earth-born passion! Who that ever tasted the charm of such enviable moments, does not turn away from the sparkling follies of the substantial world to the memory of those holy hours of rapture? One energetic and harmonious line—one well-conveyed emotion—a gentle, graceful transit from one thought to another—can fill the soul of the poet with innocent and natural delight, leaving behind it a soft and placid gladsomeness which will be doubly grateful if it can be participated by some sympathizing and sensible friend, who can enter into its enthusiasm and forgive its excess. It is indeed a guiltless and a spiritual joy, created by [221] an effort, which effort is in itself enjoyment: and then it brings the prospect of the approbation, the encouragement of the wise and good!—But envy! envy!—the pitiful efforts of envy itself only make its triumphs the more splendid—they dash and murmur like the little waves against the firm foot of the mountain, on which true merit raises itself in its own majesty, for the glory of its country and of mankind.

The story of Psyche is one of the most attractive which has been handed down to us by classic mythology. It originally conveyed a beautiful and impressive allegory, whose charm has been obscured and whose interest almost lost in the many embellishments with which a series of poets have crowded the simple tale; a tale in fact only intended to describe the nuptials of the god of love with Psyche, and the consequent birth of the goddess of enjoyment: the obvious sense of which is, that when the soul is filled with love, it enjoys the highest possible portion of pleasure. From this unadorned fable Apuleius drew a charming story, more indeed like the fairy-tales of modern days than the μυθοι of the old Grecian age. On this production of Apuleius La Fontaine founded his fascinating Psyche, adding numberless beauties to [222] his original, and delightfully mingling verse and prose—the strikingly impressive with the playfully good-humoured. To the Psyche of France we owe the Russian Dushenka; but our poet, though he never loses sight of his exemplar, goes onwards in his own path of flowers, and gathers many a one which the French poet overlooked or disregarded. La Fontaine has more of art—Bogdanovich of nature;—and the current of the latter flows in consequence more refreshingly. Besides, Dushenka is wholly in verse, and good verse is certainly greatly better than good prose, and rarer too. The most laborious efforts of art are also the most valued⁠[2]⁠; and thus it is that the purest and most harmonious prose can never give to a representation the energy or the interest which it may derive from the power of verse, to which indeed whatever is mysterious and supernatural more especially belongs. This La Fontaine constantly felt, and sought shelter for his highest [223] efforts and sweetest fancies in the regions of song. How much better had he done, if he had made his Psyche a continuous poem! Bogdanovich’s Dushenka is so. Where exists the Russian who has not read Dushenka?

This production must not be weighed in the scales of Aristotle. It is a display of the powers of a gay and joyous imagination, directed by good taste. It is sportive, excursive, ingenuous, faithful:—Why must rules of art be intruded here?

[Karamsin then goes on to compare the French with the Russian fabulist, giving the most striking passages from the Dushenka, and “strewing,” as he says, “the grave of the poet with his own flowers.”]

Is it surprising that such a poem produced so great an impression? Six or seven sheets thrown uncalled for into the world, wholly changed the fate of the author. Catherine was then reigning in Russia. She saw, she admired the Dushenka—sent for the poet, and inquired of him how she could gratify him.—It was enough—who doubts the taste of a sovereign? Nobles and courtiers learnt Dushenka by heart, each rivalling the rest in the attentions showered upon the author. Epistles, odes, and madrigals in [224] his honour were scattered profusely. He was mounted above the clouds.—Alas! that the destructive influence of such distinctions should have overshadowed him in the brightest epoch of his poetic talents. He was thirty years old—he abandoned the muses—and the garland woven for him by his Dushenka was the only one that encircled his brow in his listless lethargy. It is an imperishable wreath, no doubt, but the friends of poetry mourn that it should have satisfied him. Even the thirst for fame may be quenched. Our poet afterwards wrote much, but against his own will and against the will of his inspiring genius. Perhaps he would set up no rival to his beloved Dushenka.

From 1775 to 1789 he published the following works: Historical Description of Russia—an imperfect essay, which however is very well written; only the first volume appeared. A Comedy in verse—The Joy of Dushenka;—The Sclavonian Woman, and two dramatised proverbs. Catherine encouraged him to write for the stage, and sent him brilliant presents on the production of these pieces. The Sclavonian piece made a strong impression. It represents the festivities with which the old Sclavonians [225] welcomed the return of the twenty-fifth year of the reign of their “Great Princes,” and it was produced just at the period when Catherine had swayed the Russian sceptre for a quarter of a century.

At the request of the Empress he also published a collection of Russian proverbs, and wrote some small poems in the Sobesœdnik, The Companion, a weekly periodical, which appeared at Petersburg in 1788 and 9. Many of these graceful trifles are full of wit and gaiety, and the song “I’m fourteen summers old,” &c. (p. 168) has become one of the most popular national songs in Russia. He also translated at this time the best eulogiums, such as Voltaire’s and Marmontel’s, on the Empress, and the compositions lost nothing of their effect in being thus transferred to our language.

In the poet let us not forget the man. He was made associate of the Archives at Petersburg in 1780, and in 1788 was elected president. In 1795 he was dismissed from service, in which he had been engaged forty-one years. The salary was continued to him in the form of a pension. He left Petersburg the following year. The then unfortunate state of Europe—those dreadful revolutions which shook individuals [226] as well as nations, added to many personal sorrows, excited in his sensitive mind the ardent longing after a peaceful solitude. A beautiful climate—the sweet recollections of youth—the bonds of early friendship and of brotherhood—invited him to the fair fields of Little Russia. He went to Sumii, intending to glide calmly and silently through the evening of life, in the circle of his connections, and reposing on the bosom of nature. The first weeks and months he passed in those retreats were ineffably happy. His spirits had never been so free and so tranquil. No phantoms disturbed his peace. A pure conscience, the recollections of fifty years passed in unbroken but serene activity—a poetical but strong mind—an active strength of fancy—an excellent library—the friendliest union with good men and beloved relatives—and the uniformity of an ingenuous and happy life, a life which had been so full of allurements—these were the sources of that happiness which he here enjoyed—a real enviable happiness, such as is sought by all, who amidst the world’s tumultuousness strive after their own fame, and their fellow-creatures’ well-being;—that happiness he had sighed after to decorate the peaceful [227] though sometimes gloomy days of eventide:—but “In this world where shall peace be found?”

And Bogdanovich did not enjoy it long:—An unfortunate attachment drove him from the haven where he deemed himself to be safely anchored from all the storms of life. He abandoned friends, relatives, the silent abodes of peace and happiness, that he might fly from this ever-ruling passion. In the years when the sun of life sinks rapidly towards its setting, and the calm of nature seems to invite to closer communion with what is left of earthly pleasure, it is then the passions are most terrible.—Youth is supported by hope—but age has no such stay. It hears alone the strong voice of reason, which will not approve of the useless murmurs against destiny. Every heart that can feel will look with sorrow on this period of our poet’s existence.

In the year 1798 he again returned to Kursk, in whose neighbourhood he had long been wandering. Alexander mounted the Russian throne. And when every eye of patriotism, bright with hope and joy, was turned upon the young monarch, Bogdanovich again seized his long neglected lyre, and received from the Emperor a ring as the token of his approval. [228] The poet of Dushenka had had the honour of gratifying Catherine the Great; should not her illustrious grandson deign also to honour him?

The health of Bogdanovich had been always indifferent; in the beginning of December, 1802, it began visibly to decay, and on the 6th of January, 1803, he died, mourned by his acquaintances and friends, and by every friend of the literature of his country; for he had not yet attained those venerable years when the last and only blessing which heaven can confer on the son of mortality is to soothe and brighten his passage to the realms of eternity.

It is said that the character of an author is best painted in his works; but it is surely safer to take into account the opinions and observations of those who knew him best. And here then we must listen to the unvarying voice of praise. All speak of his meekness, his feeling heart, his unselfishness, and that innocent gaiety which played around him to the end of his days, and gave a peculiar charm to his society. He had no pride of authorship. He seldom spoke of literature or of poetry, and always with an unaffected modesty, which seemed to have been born with him. He loved not criticism, which [229] often destroys even the honestest self-complacency, and he often confessed that its severity would have driven him wholly away from the exercises of his pen.

His memory will be cherished by his friends and the friends of Russian genius; and the sweet—the feeling—the acute—the joyous poet of Dushenka will be honoured by the future age.

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KHEMNITZER.

Ivan Ivanovich Khemnitzer was born of German parents at Petersburg, in the year 1744. His father was of Saxon origin, and was attached as physician to the country hospital of the Russian capital. From parents of distinguished excellence our poet received the elements of a careful education. It was his father’s wish that his son should succeed him in his profession, but the unconquerable aversion of the latter to the study of anatomy could never be subdued. He was enrolled in consequence when thirteen years old in the regiment of guards, as sub-officer, and made two campaigns against the Prussians and the Turks. This, however, as he was wont to say, was “out of the rain into the river”—from the theatre of anatomy to the martyr-chamber of surgery. He became in consequence an engineer in the Berg cadet corps, having obtained the rank of lieutenant in the Russian service. He [231] won the love and the confidence of all his superiors by his activity and uprightness. In the year 1776, he accompanied one of his superior officers through Germany, Holland, and France; and after his return to his country applied himself ardently to his literary labours. In 1778 he published the first volume of his fables; and on its reaching a second edition about three years afterwards, he added to it another volume. One of his particular friends and protectors quitting the service at this period, he determined to do the same. He had no means of living independently of his salary, and being compelled to look round him for another engagement, he soon obtained the consul-generalship of Smirna. The emoluments attached to this office led him to hope that in the progress of a few years he should be enabled to retire comfortably from active life, and this hope induced him to accept an office which banished him from his country. That country he abandoned with a heavy heart; and on separating from his friends, whom he loved with indescribable affection, he seemed to sink under the thought that he was bidding them a final farewell. In the autumn of 1782 he reached Smirna;—indisposition greeted [232] him on his arrival. The climate was perhaps unfriendly; but his mind was more keenly affected by his exile from that society in which he had so long breathed and lived, and which had become a necessary element of his existence. He struggled long against his illness:—it subdued him in the spring of 1784.

This is a short outline of the serene and unpretending career of an excellent man and an admirable poet, whose manners were as ingenuous and unobtrusive as his life. In many respects he may be compared to La Fontaine, his pattern and forerunner. The same goodness of heart, the same blind confidence in his friends, the same carelessness and inoffensiveness, and the same absence of mind, which formed the prominent features of La Fontaine’s character, were developed with singular fidelity in that of Khemnitzer. Of the last trait we will give an example or two. When in Paris he once went to see the representation of Tancred. On Le Cain’s appearance, he was so struck with the noble and majestic presence of that renowned actor, that he rose from his seat and bowed with lowly reverence. An universal roar of laughter brought him back to himself. [233] One morning a friend, for whom he had the highest regard, related to him an interesting piece of news. Khemnitzer dined with him afterwards, and as a piece of remarkable intelligence narrated to his host that which his host had before communicated to him. His friend reminded him of his forgetfulness. Khemnitzer was greatly distressed, and in his perplexity, instead of his handkerchief, he put his host’s napkin into his pocket. On rising from table Khemnitzer endeavoured to slip away unobserved; his friend saw him, followed him, and tried to detain him. Khemnitzer reproached him for unveiling his weaknesses, and would not listen to any entreaties. “Leave my napkin then, at least, which you pocketed at table,” said the other. Khemnitzer drew it forth, and stood like a statue. The loud laugh of the company recovered him from his trance, and with the utmost good nature he joined in the general mirth.

A very handsome edition of his fables was published in Petersburg, 1799, under the title Basni i Skaski I. I. Khemnitzera v Trekh Chastœkh, Khemnitzer’s Fables and Tales. The third part consists of posthumous fables, printed for the first time in this edition.

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In Germany the works of Khemnitzer have been often spoken of as models and master-pieces⁠[3]⁠. Some of them are imitations of La Fontaine, some of Gellert⁠[4]⁠, but they are principally original. They are remarkable for their purity of style—genuine Russian character—their naïveté and descriptive charms—their poetical smoothness—their singular simplicity—and an original epigrammatic wit, most felicitously applied.

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KOSTROV.

Ermil Ivanovich Kostrov was born in the Vjetskish province. His father was a vassal of the crown. He received the first part of his education in the common school of his neighbourhood, and, in consequence of his display of talent, was sent to the Moscow university, where he obtained the rank of bachelor of arts, and was advanced to the post of provincial secretary in 1782. He died on the 9th of December, 1796. A collection of his poetry, which had been scattered in different publications, was made in 1802 in two volumes. His translations, which are much admired, are Homer’s Iliad, of which the seventh, eighth, and ninth books were first printed in the European Herald, Vœstnik Evropĭ. It is said he offered the last six books to a bookseller, and the liberal tradesman offering him only one hundred and fifty rubles (about 7l. 10s. sterling) for his labours, the offended poet threw the translation into [236] the fire. The first six books are the only ones which have been collected. Apuleev Solotoi Osel, Apuleius’s Golden Ass; Ossian, from a French version, on which he has greatly improved; Elvir i Zenotemsh, a Poem of Ardouro; and Voltaire’s Tactique in verse.

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KARAMSIN.

Nicolai Michaelovich Karamsin was born in the province of Limbersk on the 1st of December, 1765. His earliest instructor was Professor Schaden, of Moscow, from whose care he was removed to the university of that place. In 1789-91 he travelled through central Europe, and published in 1791 and 1801 his Pi’sma Russkago Puteshestvennika, Letters of a Russian Traveller, which have been translated into English. He took up his abode at Moscow on his return, and was appointed the imperial historiographer in 1803. From his earliest youth he exhibited a striking fondness for literary pursuits, and a great number of his translations were printed in the Journal Dœtskoechenie, Children’s Reading Book. The Idyl Derevannaje, The Wooden Foot, was published in 1787. In the years 1792 and 1793 he published the Moskovskij Zhurnal, Moscow Journal, in eight volumes. In 1794, two [238] parts of Aglaia, In 1797-8 and 9, a Collection of Poems, entitled Lonidĭ. In 1798, his Panteon Inostrannoi Slovesnosti, Pantheon of Foreign Literature, in three parts. In 1802-3, Vœstnik Evropĭ, European Herald, in twelve volumes. His compositions which were printed in the newspapers at Moscow, he published in 1794 with the title Moi Besdœlki, My Trifles. Besides these, have been published his Rosgavor o Shchastii, Discourse on Happiness; 1798, Julia, a Tale; and Pokhval’noe slovo Ekaterinœ Velikoi, Eulogium on Catherine the Great. In 1804 a collection of his works was printed in eight volumes. His great work, The History of Russia, has been mentioned elsewhere in this volume.

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ZHUKOVSKY.

Vassilj Andrejevich Zhukovsky was born in 1783. He was educated in the public school at Tula and in the Moscow University, which he left in 1803. He held afterwards an appointment from the Russian government. In 1808 and 1809 he edited the Vœstnik Evropĭ, European Herald, in which he was afterwards joined by Kachenovsky. He has translated Florian’s Don Quixote into Russian, and published in 1810-11, the best collection of Russian poetry I am acquainted with, Sobranie Rushkikh Stikhotvorenii, in 5 vols. Most of his productions were originally printed in the above periodical. Of his poetical compositions, the most esteemed are Marina Roshcha, Mary’s Goat, a tale; The Moje Boginje, My Goddess, from Göthe: Liudmilla, and Dvenadtzat Spjeshchikh Dœv, The twelve sleeping Virgins.

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