Chapter XXIV: Act I: , Scene I. Dimítri and the Other Princes, Boyárs and Generals

_Dimítri._ Russian princes, boyárs, generals, you who have crossed the Don to find liberty and, at last, to cast off the yokes that have been forced upon us! How long were we to endure the dominion of the Tartars in our land, and, content with an humble fate, sit as slaves on our princely throne? Two centuries had nearly passed when Heaven in its anger sent that scourge against us; for almost two centuries the foes, now openly, now hidden, like hungry ravens, like insatiable wolves, have been destroying, burning, plundering us. I have called you here to avenge us: the time has now come to repay the foe for our calamities. The Kipchák horde has, like a gigantic burden, been lying on Russian shoulders, spreading desolation and terror all around, but now, heavy by its own weight, it has fallen to pieces. Civil strife, dissension and all the ills which heretofore had brought the Russian land to utter weakness, have now penetrated the horde. New khans have arisen who have torn themselves loose from it; but the insatiable tyrants, having barely risen, threaten our land. The most insatiable of them and most cunning, Mamáy, the accursed ruler of the Trans-Don horde, has risen against us in an unjust war. He is hurrying against us, and perhaps with to-morrow’s dawn will appear before our camp. But seeing the sudden union of the Russian forces, his heart was disturbed, and his mind misgave him, so he decided to send first an embassy to us. Friends of Dimítri, do you advise to receive them? Or, remaining firm in our heroic intention, shall we answer Mamáy in front of our army, when the first bold onslaught of the Russians would resound upon the earth and would frighten the Tartars?

_Tverskóy._ Let us give the answer before the army in the field of battle! None of us, O princes, can be more anxious than I to avenge ourselves on the inhuman foe. Whose family can compare with the Tverskóys in misfortunes they have borne? My grandfather and his sire, after endless tortures, lay their heads in the graves through the treachery of the infidel, and their ashes groan under the power of the horde. Grand Prince of Russia, you have called us hither not to enter into parley with Mamáy, but to decide in battle and end all discord with him....

_Byelózerski._ Oh, how happy am I to have lived to see this day, to contemplate here the concord and love among the princes, and the unanimous zeal in your hearts against the enemy! I, about to bear my age into the yawning grave, will be able to bring hope to the departed fathers, that the honour of the Russian land is to be reinstated, that her power and glory is to return. O shades of Vladímir, and you, shades of Yarosláv, ancestral heads of princely houses! In the lap of the angels you will rejoice, as you foresee the blessed time when the disunited nation of Russian tribes, uniting with one soul into one whole, will triumphantly appear a threatening giant, and united Russia will give laws to the world! Dimítri, your victory is certain! No, never before has such an army been gathered in so far-reaching a camp, either by your grandfather Iván, or Simeón the Terrible, or your meek father! I, the old leader of the forces of Byelózersk, have never seen Russia lead out such numbers of bold warriors. Of all the Russian princes, Olég alone has remained in idleness at Ryazán, and without interest in the expedition; his ear alone is deaf to the common groan. May the memory of those perish whose spirit can with quiet eye see the country’s woes, or rather, let their name with disgrace and endless shame pass to late posterity! Yet, my lord, however flattering your success may be, my advice is to receive the Tartar embassy, and if we can establish peace by paying a tribute to Mamáy.... (_All the princes express dissatisfaction._)

_Dimítri._ O Prince of Byelózersk, what do you propose? Fearing strife, to acknowledge the Tartar’s power by paying a shameful tribute?

_Byelózerski._ To spare the priceless Christian blood. If we conquer Mamáy, look out, the hordes will once more unite for our common woe; beware, this temporarily successful exploit will again rouse their ambitious spirit, and they will perceive at last how injurious for their ambition their strife is, which separates their khans. The murders, fire, slaughter of wives and children which the Tartars have perpetrated against us, in their opinion, give the hordes a right over us. They deem Russia to be their patrimony. Seeing our bravery, they will stop their disorders, and will soon, united, bring misery on the Russians. Rather give them a chance to weaken in their destructive discord; let us gather strength in the peaceful quiet and, warding off the chances of war, choose peace instead of useless victory.

_Dimítri._ Oh, better death in battle than dishonourable peace! Thus our ancestors thought, thus we, too, will think. Those times are past when timid minds saw in the Tartars a tool of Heaven, which it is senseless and improper to oppose. In our days honour and the very voice of faith arm us against the tormentors. That voice, that prophetic voice of faith, proclaims to us that an immortal crown awaits the fallen in battle, that through the grave they pass to eternal joy. O Sérgi, pastor of souls, whom the groans of fellow-citizens have so often disturbed in your hermit prayers, and whose tears have so abundantly flowed lamenting the fate of the innocent, O you who with sacred hand blessed us for the impending battle! In your hermit cell, where you pass your humble days, listen to my words: inspired by you, they will inflame the Russian hearts to seek here liberty or the heavenly crown! ’Tis better to cease living, or not to be born at all, than to submit to the yoke of a foreign tribe, than with the name of payers of tribute to flatter their greed. Can we with such slavery avert our misfortunes? He who pays a tribute is weak; he who evinces a weak spirit invites arrogant lust to insult. But I am ready to receive the Khan’s messenger and to bring him before the assembly of the princes, not to listen to the shameless propositions of Tartar arrogance, but to announce to him the resolve for war, that he may read valour in our brows, and, shuddering, bear terror into Mamáy’s camp.

_Smolénski._ The whole assembly announces assent to your advice.

_Dimítri._ The messenger awaits the decision near the tent. You, Brénski, bring in the Tartars that have come to us!

Prince Iván Mikháylovich Dolgorúki. (1764-1823.)

Iván Mikháylovich Dolgorúki was the grandson of Prince Iván Aleksyéevich, the favourite of Peter II. (see p. 233). In 1791 he left the army with the rank of brigadier. He was then made Vice-Governor of Pénza, where he sought relief from the humdrum life of a provincial town in reading and in writing poetry. One of the first of his poems to attract attention was the envoi _To my Lackey_; he became universally known through his _My Penza Fireplace_. In 1802 he was appointed Governor of Vladímir. Not long after his return to Moscow he was forced to retire before the advancing Frenchmen. During his retreat he wrote his _Lament of Moscow_. His best poem is probably his _Legacy_. While not a poet of the first order, Dolgorúki displayed great originality and much depth of feeling. This is what he himself said of his poems: “In my poems I wished to preserve all the shades of my feelings, to see in them, as in a picture, the whole history of my heart, its agitation, the change in my manner of thinking, the progress of my thoughts in the different ages of my life, and the gradual development of my small talents. Every verse reminds me of some occurrence, or thought, or mood that influenced me at such and such a moment.... That is the key to the originality which many are so kind as to ascribe to my productions.” _The Legacy_ was translated by Sir John Bowring.

THE LEGACY

When time’s vicissitudes are ended,
Be this, be this my place of rest;
Here let my bones with earth be blended,
Till sounds the trumpet of the blest.
For here, in common home, are mingled
Their dust, whom fame or fortune singled;
And those whom fortune, fame passed by,
All mingled, and all mouldering;--folly
And wisdom, mirth and melancholy,
Slaves, tyrants,--all mixt carelessly.

List! ’Tis the voice of time,--Creation’s
Unmeasured arch repeats the tone;
Look! E’en like shadows, mighty nations
Are born, flit by us, and are gone!
See! Children of a common father,
See stranger-crowds, like vapours gather;
Sires, sons, descendants, come and go.
Sad history! Yet e’en there the spirit
Some joys may build, some hopes inherit,
And wisdom gather flowers from woe.

There, like a bee-swarm, round the token
Of unveiled truth shall sects appear,
And evil’s poisonous sting be broken
In the bright glance of virtue’s spear.
And none shall ask, what dormitory
Was this man’s doom, what robes of glory
Wore he, what garlands crowned his brow,--
Was pomp his slave?--Come now, discover
The heart, the soul,--Delusion’s over,--
What was his conduct?--Answer now!

Where stands yon hill-supported tower,
By Fili, shall I wake again,
Summoned to meet Almighty Power
In judgment, like my fellow-men.
I shall be there, and friends and brothers,
Sisters and children, fathers, mothers,--
With joy that never shall decay;
The soul, substantial blessing beaming
(All here is shadowy and seeming),
Drinks bliss no time can sweep away.

Friends, on my brow that rests when weary
Erect no proud and pompous pile:
Your monuments are vain and dreary,
Their splendour cannot deck the vile.
A green grave, by no glare attended,
With other dust and ashes blended,
Oh, let my dust and ashes lie!
There, as I sleep, Time, never sleeping,
Shall gather ages to his keeping,
For such is nature’s destiny.

My wife, my children shall inherit
All I possessed,--’twas mine, ’tis theirs;
For death, that steals the living spirit,
Gives all earth’s fragments to its heirs.
Send round no circling-briefs of sorrow,
No garments of the raven borrow;
’Tis idle charge, ’tis costly pride.
Be gay, through rain and frosty weather,
Nor gather idle priests together
To chant my humble grave beside.

Cry, orphans! Cry, ye poor! imploring
The everlasting God, that He
May save me when I sink, adoring,
Amidst His boundless mercy-sea.
My blessing to my foes be given,
Their curses far from me be driven,
Nor break upon my hallowed bliss;
God needs no studied words from mortals,
A sigh may enter Heaven’s wide portals,--
He could not err, He taught us this.

No songs, no elegy,--death hearkens
To music ne’er though sweet it be:
When o’er you night’s oblivion darkens,
Then let oblivion shadow me.
No verse will soften Hades’ sadness,
No verse can break on Eden’s gladness,
’Tis all parade and shifting glare:--
A stream, where scattered trees are growing,
A secret tear, in silence flowing,
No monument as these so fair.

Such slumber here, their memory flashes
Across my thoughts.--Hail, sister, hail!
I kiss thy sacred bed of ashes,
And soon shall share thy mournful tale.
Thou hast paid thy earthly debts,--’tis ended,
Thy cradle and thy tomb are blended,
The circle of thy being run;
And now in peace thy history closes,
And thy stilled, crumbling frame reposes
Where life’s short, feverish play is done.

I live and toil,--my thoughts still follow
The idle world:--my care pursue
Dreams and delusions, baseless, hollow,
And vanities still false, though new.
Then fly I earthly joys, I find them
Leave terror-working stings behind them:
“Beware, beware!” experience cries;
Yet ah! how faint the voice of duty,
One smile of yonder flattering beauty
Would make me waste even centuries.

--From Sir John Bowring’s _Specimens of the Russian Poets_, Part II.

MY MOSCOW FIREPLACE

Scarcely have we seen summer, behold, winter is here! The frosts drive us into our rooms, and will for a long time keep us within. Nature’s beauty is changed, and dimmed by the veil of night. Oh, what shall I do? What begin? I will move up to my dear fireplace, and will share with it, as before, my melancholy.

Whatever countries I have been in, whether my house was large or small, whether I paraded in high palace halls, or retired to my apartments,--the fireplace, my winter benefactor, was everywhere the witness of my acts: whole days I passed with it alone; pining, sorrows and annoyances, consolation, pleasure, joy,--my fireplace has experienced them all.

Whenever I mentally survey all human lots in this world, and by the fireplace in my study judge of humanity, I with difficulty can harmonise in my imagination the opinions of happiness that are common to all. The whole world lives in a noise and din; but what does it find in place of happiness? New causes for worriment.

Kings, of their own free will, leave the throne and hasten to arms; in their elevated place they not seldom curse their lives. No matter how boyárs grow stout, they also pale in their good fortune, like their lowest slave. He in his unbounded sphere, the other in his earth hut, or cave,--both are weak against the attack.

Everywhere they have written of happiness, and will always prate about it, but they have nowhere found it. Yes, ’tis difficult to attain! And I, though a simple man, can also like a philosopher aver it is within me; but where, and how to find it?--I do not know! In sorrow I suffer openly; whenever I am merry, ’tis as if in a dream.

Protesting against the evil of the passions, knitting his brow, like Cato, when all is quiet in his soul, the philosopher proclaims his law: “Why be enslaved by passions? We must submit to reason. All our desires are an empty dream; all upon earth, O men, is transitory: seek eternal happiness in Heaven, for the world is vanity of vanities.

“If one dish satisfies your hunger, why have three? If you have a caftan, what is the use of five? What need is there of a pile of money? When you die, you will not take it with you. Contract the limits of your necessities, flee from the city into the country, live quietly your allotted time, with equanimity bear insults, magnanimously suffer sorrow, be more than man!”

What are you yourself, my teacher? Are you a god, or an angel in the flesh? Guardian of deep wisdom, permit me to look within you! Reveal to us not your mind alone, but your feelings, announce to us without ambiguity: are you yourself? I see, you are a vain hypocrite: you do not believe your own sermon, you are an empty-sounding cymbal.

Oh, if people all lived as reason bids them! If feelings were more gentle, if the fount of blood did not boil,--how nice life would be! All would be peace and security, and love the tie of all the lands; people would not devour each other; and a Frenchman, an Arab, a Mussulman would live in harmony together.

Oh, if ... I need but place this word at the head, and my pen creates at once a new earth, nay, heaven. All kingdoms will flow with abundance, all men will be equally strong, nowhere there shall be snow, nor winter, but flowers will grow the year around, and we will not run to the fireplace,--we shall be regenerated.

Oh no! I am sorry for the fireplace! Let us leave all as it is: we cannot reproduce what my reason has evoked. Let the sphere circle around, and let each various chimera disport with every mind! The Creator will turn all for the best: to-day the chill disturbs us, but the thunder of the summer does not terrify us.

I hear at all times of the good qualities of countrymen, what beautiful lives they lead, and how the law of nature is not trampled upon by them. “Their manners,” they assert, “are coarser, but their amusements are incomparably simpler than ours: they live in freedom with each other, do not drink nor eat according to the fashion.” ’Tis not true!

When we listen to serenades on a beautiful summer day, while limpid waterfalls make a rippling noise, and the shade of cedars protects us from the heat, the peasant hitches his horse to the plough and tears up the earth, or hauls a log, or, if it be winter, looks through dim windows, through which nothing can be seen, at the blizzard without.

Fireplace, I will not exchange you for all the treasures of the lords! You are often my consolation, and always pleasant and agreeable to me. Let sorrows be inevitable: joy is coextensive with them. You are the throne of my amusements; but I am satisfied with my books; I feel with them neither pain, nor think my room small, and I read them as my spirit prompts me.

But when I leave my book, and fix my eyes upon the fireplace, with what pleasure I recall the host of various incidents! I at once reproduce in my mind the picture of my youth, and the progress and cause of my cares; I even now, as it were, glance to the north, and south, and the capital, and the Finland border.

I accuse myself before thee, my Lord! I have in vain killed my youth; carried on the wave of habit, I have given my days and nights to dreaming. I, tossed now hither, now thither, hastened to make new acquaintances, and thought: “This is all a loan I make; some day the debt, I am sure, will be duly returned to me.”

’Tis time to adapt myself to the custom! I shall soon be forty years old: it is time to learn from experience that to judge people rightly, to know this world, to seek friends is a self-deception and vain endeavour of the heart. The measure of human indifference is in our days full to overflowing; ask for no examples: alas! there are too many of them.

In your presence all will praise you, but let there be an occasion for helping you, and your worth will be depreciated, or without saying a word they will walk away. If one be cunning, he will so oppress you that he will compel you to think all your life of him in tears; if he be foolish, he will, wherever he may meet you, cast a heap of stones before you and bar your way.

From all such evils my consolation art Thou, only God, God of all creation! I need nothing more, for I expect no happiness from men. A hundredfold more pleasant it is, staying at home, and not perceiving in it the temptations of the world, to live simply with your family and, modestly passing your time and vigorously communing with reason, to stir the wood in the fireplace.

Iván Ivánovich Dmítriev. (1760-1837.)

Dmítriev was born in the Government of Simbírsk, where his friend and colleague Karamzín was also born. He entered the army in 1775 as a common soldier, and did not advance to the grade of commissioned officer until 1787. During his military service he privately studied foreign languages and wrote poetry. His first collection of poems, containing _Ermák_, _What Others Say_ and _The Little Dove_, appeared in 1795. These are the best of his productions. He also wrote a number of fables that do not suffer by comparison with those of Krylóv. His shorter songs, like _The Little Dove_, have become very popular, and are part of every song-book, together with Neledínski’s “To the streamlet I’ll repair” and other similar songs. Dmítriev did for poetry what Karamzín was doing for prose,--he purified Russian from the dross of the Church-Slavic language, an inheritance from the days of Lomonósov, and he popularised the Romantic spirit in Russian literature. He also encouraged younger men of talent, such as Krylóv. Dmítriev rapidly rose in honours, until he was made Minister of Justice in 1810. He retired a few years later to his estates near Moscow, where he passed his days surrounded by a coterie of literary men.

The following English versions of his poems have appeared: _During a Thunder-Storm_, _The Tsar and the Two Shepherds_, _The Broken Fiddle_, _Over the Grave of Bogdanóvich_, _Love and Friendship_, in Sir John Bowring’s _Specimens of the Russian Poets_, Part I.; _Yermak_, _Moskva Rescued_, _To the Volga_, _Enjoyment_, “O had I but known before,” _The Little Dove_, _To Chloe_, _ib._, Part II.; _Counsel_, _The Little Dove_, in W. D. Lewis’s _The Bakchesarian Fountain_; _Yermak_, _The Siskin and the Chaffinch_, _The Doctor_, _Sympathy_, in C. T. Wilson’s _Russian Lyrics_; _The Moon_, in Fraser’s Magazine, 1842 (article, _Russian Fabulists_).

THE LITTLE DOVE

The little dove, with heart of sadness,
In silent pain sighs night and day;
What now can wake that heart to gladness?
His mate beloved is far away.

He coos no more with soft caresses,
No more is millet sought by him,
The dove his lonesome state distresses,
And tears his swimming eyeballs dim.

From twig to twig now skips the lover,
Filling the grove with accents kind,
On all sides roams the harmless rover,
Hoping his little friend to find.

Ah! vain that hope his grief is tasting,
Fate seems to scorn his faithful love,
And imperceptibly is wasting,
Wasting away, the little dove!

At length upon the grass he threw him,
Hid in his wing his beak and wept;
There ceased his sorrows to pursue him,
The little dove for ever slept.

His mate, now sad abroad and grieving,
Flies from a distant home again,
Sits by her friend, with bosom heaving,
And bids him wake with sorrowing pain.

She sighs, she weeps, her spirits languish,
Around and round the spot she goes;
Ah! charming Chloe’s lost in anguish,
Her friend wakes not from his repose!

--From W. D. Lewis’s _The Bakchesarian Fountain_.

DURING A THUNDER-STORM

It thunders! Sons of dust, in reverence bow!
Ancient of days! Thou speakest from above;
Thy right hand wields the bolt of terror now;
That hand which scatters peace and joy and love.
Almighty! Trembling like a child,
I hear Thy awful voice, alarmed, afraid,
I see the flashes of Thy lightning wild,
And in the very grave would hide my head.

Lord! What is man? Up to the sun he flies,
Or feebly wanders through earth’s vale of dust:
There is he lost ’midst heaven’s high mysteries,
And here in error and in darkness lost.
Beneath the stormclouds, on life’s raging sea,
Like a poor sailor, by the tempest tossed
In a frail bark, the sport of destiny,
He sleeps, and dashes on the rocky coast.

Thou breathest, and the obedient storm is still.
Thou speakest,--silent the submissive wave;
Man’s shattered ship the rushing waters fill,
And the hushed billows roll across his grave.
Sourceless and endless God! Compared with Thee,
Life is a shadowy, momentary dream,
And Time, when viewed through Thy eternity,
Less than the mote of morning’s golden beam.

--From Sir John Bowring’s _Specimens of the Russian Poets_, Part I.

ERMÁK

How strange a sight is this I see,
By thee revealed, Antiquity!
Beneath the gloomy garb of night,
By the pale moonbeam’s cloudy light,
I gaze upon the Irtýsh stream,
Whose waters foaming, whirling, gleam,
As on they rush with angry tide.
Two men I see, exhausted, there,
Like shadows in the murky air;
Their faces in their hands they hide.
One youthful is, the other old,
His beard hangs down with wavy fold;
Each wears a dress whose every part
With awe and wonder fills the heart;
Descending from their helmets down,
The coiling tails of serpents frown,
Mingled with owlet’s bristling wing,
Their coats wild-beasts’ skins borrowing.
Their breasts entire with thongs are hung,
Of flints, and rusty iron, strung;
Within each belt is firmly prest
A knife, whose edge well sharpened is;
Two drums are at their feet, I wis,
And close beside their lances rest:
They both are sorcerers of Siberian race,
And thus the meaning of their words I trace.

THE OLD MAN

“Roar on, old Irtýsh, let our cry
Along thy stream re-echoing fly;
The gods have chastening sent in ire
And poured on us misfortunes dire.”

THE YOUNG MAN

“Woes, woes, upon us tenfold lour
In this our most disastrous hour.”

THE OLD MAN

“O thou, whose crown three nations bore,
Their names far-spread from shore to shore!
O mighty, proud, and ancient State,
Mother of many races great!
Thy glory’s past and worn away,
No longer chief, thou must obey!”

THE YOUNG MAN

“As clouds of dust from whirlwinds hie,
So scattered quite thy people lie;
And he, Kuchúm,[166] dread of the world,
Is dead, on foreign deserts hurled.”

THE OLD MAN

“The holy Shamans, forced from home,
Throughout the rugged forests roam;
For this, ye gods of earth and air,
Was it that white has grown my hair?
Tell me, was it for this that I,
Through all my life your faithful slave,
Prostrate in dust before ye lie,
And thousands for companions have?”

THE YOUNG MAN

“And who are they have made thee fall?”

THE OLD MAN

“From Russia come they, one and all;
Why did not plague and famine loom
Upon our land with frightful doom?
Better if elemental wrath
Had fall’n in fury on our path,
And swallowed up Siberia’s fame,
Than bow before this Ermák’s name.”

THE YOUNG MAN

“Of Nature’s self the curse and blight,
May curses heavy on him light!
Ye streams, and mountains old, ’tis he
Has flung upon you infamy!”

THE OLD MAN

“As fiery columns passing on,
As icy blasts the land upon,
All fell by his destructive tread;
Where’er his fatal arrow sped,
There life grew pale, and death’s dire smart
O’ertook each timid, cowering heart.”

THE YOUNG MAN

“By him deprived of mortal breath,
Our royal brother met his death.”

THE OLD MAN

“As I looked on, the hero’s might
Shone forth in that terrific fight;
’Twas on Muhammad-Kula’s[167] plain--
Such fight I ne’er shall see again.
His arrows hurtling in swift course,
His breast enkindled with strange force,
He drew from out its sheath his blade--
‘Rather than weary life give death,
Free from captivity,’ he saith,
And fierce assault upon Ermák he made.
Most terrible the sight! as clash
Their swords, the lightnings from them flash;
Blow fell on blow with frightful sounds.
They give and they receive new wounds.
They seize each other in their rage,
And dreadful combat still they wage;
Arm against arm--breast against breast--
They in their struggle know no rest;
The wild woods with their cries resound,
They dig up with their feet the ground:
From brows ran down, like hail, their sweat,
And fearfully their bosoms beat;
Their heads incline from side to side,
And thus they grapple, to each other tied,
Still struggling on; until the weight
Of Ermák seals his foeman’s fate.
‘The victory’s mine!’--’tis thus he cries:
‘The land before me subject lies!’”

THE YOUNG MAN

“Accomplished is the prophecy,
That this our land should conquered be.
But shall the oppressèd sigh in vain,
And never more to freedom rise again?”

THE OLD MAN

“Eternal is the fatal yoke:
Listen, my son! Late yesternight
Into the silent woods I took
My way; and there, while rapturous light
Enkindled all my inmost soul,
Burnt sacrifice I offered whole,
And to the gods made fervent prayer
That they would to our aid repair:
When, suddenly, the winds arise,
From off the trees the fresh leaves fall,
The cedars groan with creaking cries,
The goats away are scattered all.
Down sank I, when, above the noise
Of the dire storm, I heard a voice
Thus speaking: ‘Furious war does wage
Racha[168] ’gainst sinners; to his rage
All those who sin devoted are;
Siberia has renounced my laws,
And righteous, therefore, is the cause
Why she be subject to the fierce White Tsar.[169]
By morn and night ye shall be found
Alike in heavy fetters bound;
But Ermák’s name shall never fade,
Nor of his race an end be made;
They ’neath the moon shall ever be
Eternal in their majesty.’
When ceased the voice, the thunders loud
Rattled from out each stormy cloud;
On us has fallen Misfortune’s hand,
Woe”----

THE YOUNG MAN

“Woe to us, and our land.”

Then, while they yield to deepest sighs,
They from the moss-strewn stones arise,
And while their arms again they wear,
Along the shore they disappear.
Peace, Ermák, on thine ashes rest!
Thine image of bright silver made,
Which in Siberia’s mines was laid,
Is by the crown of Russia prest.
But why speak I with hasty zeal?
What do my foolish words reveal?
We do not even know the place
Where rest thy bones in earth’s embrace.
The wild beasts trample them upon,
Or Ostiaks, as they hurry on,
Chasing the antlered stag, and roe,
To bring them by their arrows low.
But, hero, from thine anger cease,
And let thy memory know peace!
Poetic genius every day,
When golden morning’s beauties play,
Shall o’er thy corpse still float along,
And greet thee with triumphant song.
What matters it in any case
If to barbaric times we trace
Thy birth? Yet thou such deeds hast done
As have thy land victorious shown.
Although thine ashes disappear,
Though e’en thy sons no likeness bear
To thee, but, their great sire forgetting,
Their livelihood in wild woods getting,
They dwell the wolves and bears amid,
Yet never shall thy name be hid.
Thou shalt with demigods find place,
From age to age, from race to race;
And ne’er shall darken thy bright ray
Until grows dark the orb of day;
When with a crash the heavens fall,
And time shall cease to be, and ruin cover all.

--From C. T. Wilson’s _Russian Lyrics_.

WHAT OTHERS SAY

“How strange! More than twenty years have passed since we, with mind intent and furrowed brow, have assiduously been writing odes, yet we nowhere hear praises sung to them or us! May it be that Phœbus has sent forth his stern decree that none of us should ever aspire to equal Flaccus, Ramler[170] and all their brotherhood, or ever be renowned as they in song? What do you think? I took yesterday the pains to compare their song and ours: in theirs, there is not much to read! a page; if much, three pages, and yet what joy to read! You feel--how shall I say it?--as if you flew on wings! Judging by their briefness, you are sure they wrote them playfully, and not labouring four days: then why should we not be more fortunate than they, since we are a hundred times more diligent and patient? When one of us begins to write, he leaves all play aside, pores a whole night over a couple of verses, sweats, thinks, draws and burns his paper; and sometimes he rises to such daring that he passes a whole year over one ode! And, of course, he uses up all his intelligence upon it! And there you have a most solemn ode! I cannot say to what species it belongs, but it is very full,--some two hundred strophes! Judge for yourself how many fine verses there are in it! Besides, it is written according to the rules: at first you read the introduction, then the argument, and finally the conclusion,--precisely as the learned speak in the church! And yet, I must confess, there is no pleasure in reading it.

“Let me take, for example, the odes on victories, how that they conquered the Crimea, how the Swedes were drowned at sea: I find there all the details of a battle, where it happened, how, when,--in short, a report in verse! Very well!... I yawn! I throw it away, and open another, one written for a holiday, or something like it: here you discover things that a less clever mind would not have thought out within a lifetime: ‘Dawn’s rosy fingers,’ and ‘lily of paradise,’ and ‘Phœbus,’ and ‘heaven cleft open’! So vociferous, so loud! No, it does not please, nor move our hearts in the least.”

Thus an old man of our grandfathers’ times spoke yesterday to me in gentle simplicity. I, being myself a companion of those singers, the action of whose verse he so marvelled at, was much disturbed, nor knew how to answer him. But luckily, if at all that may be called luck to hear your own terrible sentence, a certain Aristarch began to speak to him.

“For this,” said he, “there are many causes; I will not promise to unveil one-half of them, but some I will gladly expound to you. I myself love the language of the gods, poetry, and just as you, am little edified with ours. In former days I have much conversed in Moscow with our Pindars, and have watched them well: the greater part of them are corporals of the body-guard, assessors, officers, scribes, or dust-covered guardians of monsters in the Museum of Antiquities,--all of them busy government officials; I have often noticed that they barely have time in two days or three to make a proper rhyme, their mind being all taken up with their affairs. No sooner has a lucky thought struck them, when, lo, the clock strikes six! The carriage is waiting: ’tis time for the theatre, and then to the ball, or to Lion,[171] and then ’tis night.... When are they to call on Apollo? In the morning, no sooner has he opened his eyes, than there is a note: ‘Rehearsal at five o’clock’.... Where? In fashionable society, where our lyric poet is to play the part of the harlequin. Is there any time left for odes? You have to learn our parts, then to Kroll,[172] then home again, to primp yourself and get dressed, then to the theatre, and good-bye another day. Besides, the ancients had one purpose, we another: Horace, for example, who nurtured his breast with ecstasy, what did he want? Not very much: in the æons immortality, and in Rome but a wreath of laurels or of myrtle, that Delia might say: ‘He is famous; through him I, too, am immortal!’ But the aim of many of us is a present of a ring, at times a hundred roubles, or friendship with a princelet who all his life has never read anything except now and then the Court almanac, or praises from their friends to whom each printed sheet appears to be sacred.

“Considering how different their views and ours are, it may safely be asserted, without offending those mettlesome gentlemen, the alumni of the Russian Muses, that they must have some especial taste, and different means, and a special manner in the composition of a lyrical poem; what they are I cannot tell you, but I shall announce to you--and, truly, I will not lie about it--what a certain poet thought of verses, of whose works the _Mercury_ and the _Observer_[173] and the book stores and the stalls are full. ‘We are born into this world,’ he thought, ‘with rhymes; is it then not ridiculous for us poets to waste our time, like Demosthenes, at the sea-shore in a cabin, in doing nothing but reading and thinking, and relating what we have thought out only to the noisy waves? Nature makes the poet, and not study: he is without study learned when he becomes enthused, but science will always remain science, and not a gift; the only necessary equipments are boldness, rhymes and ardour.’

“And this is the way the natural poet wrote an ode: barely has the thunder of the cannon given the nation the pleasant news that the Rýmnikski Alcides[174] has vanquished the Poles, or that Férzen has taken their chief, Kosciuszko, captive, he immediately grabs the pen, and, behold, the word ‘ode’ is already on the paper.” Then follows in one strain: “‘On such a day and year!’ How now? ‘I sing!’ Oh no, that’s old! Were it not better: ‘Grant me, O Phœbus?’ Or, better still: ‘Not you alone are trod under heel, O turban-wearing horde!’ But what shall I rhyme with it but ‘snored,’ or ‘bored’? No, no! it will not do! I had better take a walk, and refresh myself with a whiff of air.”

He went, and thus he meditated on his walk: “The beginning never daunts the singers: you simply say what first occurs to you. The trouble only begins when you have to praise the hero. I know not with whom to compare him; with Rumyántsev, with Greyg or with Orlóv? What a pity I have not read the ancients! For it does not seem proper to compare to the moderns. Well, I’ll simply write: ‘Rejoice, hero, rejoice, O thou!’ That’s good! But what now? Ah, now comes the ecstasy! I’ll say: ‘Who has rent the veil of eternity for me! I see the gleam of lightning! From the upper world I hear, and so on.’ And then? Of course: ‘Many a year!’ Most excellent! I have caught the plan, and thoughts, and all! Hail to the poet! All I have to do now, is to sit down and write, and boldly print!” He hurries to his garret, scribbles, and the deed is done! And his ode is printed, and already they wrap shoeblacking in his ode. Thus has he Pindarised, and all his ilk who are scarcely capable to write a proper shop sign! “I wish Phœbus would tell them in their dream: ‘He who in Catherine’s loud age of glory cannot by his eulogy move the hearts of others, nor water his sweet lyre with tears, let him throw it away, break it and know he is not a poet!’”

FOOTNOTES:

[166] Yermák defeated Kuchúm Khan in 1579; Kuchúm Khan fell into the hands of Calmucks, who killed him.

[167] The translator misunderstood the passage. Mehmed-Kul was the King’s brother, whom Ermák made prisoner and sent to John the Terrible.

[168] God of the Ostiaks.

[169] The Tsar of Russia; the origin of the appellation is not certain.

[170] A German poet who translated the odes of Horace and wrote odes of his own.

[171] Master of masquerades at St. Petersburg.

[172] St. Petersburg tailor.

[173] Magazines.

[174] Suvórov.

END OF PART I.

INDEX

Ablesímov, A. O., his comic opera, 36;
biographical sketch and extract, 370 _seq._

Academy founded, 316 _seq._

Achronism, of Russ. literature, 9;
of legends, 14

Addison’s influence on Russ. literature, 30 _seq._, 291, 327

Alexander the Great in legend, 14

Alexander I., 304 _seq._, 378

Alexis Mikháylovich, school established during his reign, 17;
and the theatre, 26;
_and see_ 35

_All Kinds of Things_, 272, 326

American interest in Russ. literature, vii. _seq._

Anacreon, translated, 224

Andover, see _Biblical Repository_

Anglo-Russian Literary Society’s studies in Russ. literature, x.

Anthologies of Russ. literature, viii., x.

Apocrypha, 12 _seq._;
legends, 114 _seq._;
stories, 152 _seq._

_Aprakos_, 11

Apuleius, 33, 358, 374

Athenæum, yearly reports on Russ. literature, xi.

Bain, R. N., translation of fairy tales, 189

Baldwin, Prince, and Daniel the Abbot, 57 _seq._

Barlaam and Josaphat, 14

Bátyushkov, 395;
translated, viii.

Bazán, E. P., on Russ. literature, x.

Beccaria, 30

_Bee, The_, Russ. literary collection, 100;
English periodical, 272

Beggar-songs, 178, 186 _seq._

Benfey’s theory, 20

Bible, its influence on early Russ. literature, 8;
in Russian, 11;
in historical literature, 15;
quoted in literature, 100 _seq._;
and Iván the Terrible, 121

Biblical Repository, The, of Andover, on Russ. literature, ix.

Bogdanóvich, I. F., at Court, 31;
his _Psyche_, 34, 263;
first collector of proverbs, 199;
biographical sketch and extracts, 374 _seq._

Bohemia, its political status, 3;
its ancient literature, 4

Boileau’s influence on Russ. literature, 29, 30, 230

Borrow, G., translations from the Russian, viii.

Bowl-songs, 178, 179

Bowring, Sir John, his translations from the Russian, vii., 178, 242,
291, 306, 379, 392, 395, 398, 422, 429;
his imitators, viii.

Boyán, 22, 81

Boyár, 46 (note)

Bradford, Mrs. W., editor of Princess Dáshkov’s _Memoirs_, 316

Brandes, G., on Russ. literature, x.

Brockes, 378

Bulgaria, its political status, 3;
its ancient literature, 4;
its language in the Church, 6;
in Russia, 7;
apocrypha travelling over, 13;
its legends, 14

Bylínas, of Vladímir’s cycle, 9 _seq._;
their development, 21;
their relation to the Word, 22

Byzantium’s influence on Russia, 5;
Greek tradition, 8;
apocrypha in Russia, 13;
legends, 14;
repression, 22;
chronographers, 65

Calilah-wa-Dimnah, 14

Catherine II., and French literature, 29;
and comedy, 36;
biographical sketch and extracts, 405 _seq._, _and see 28 et passim_

Catholic, contamination, 5;
religion in Russia, 134

Ceremonial songs, 24

_Chanson de Roland_, 80

Charms, 178, 188 _seq._

Child, Prof. F. J., 20, 163

Christianity, its influence on Russia, 4 _seq._

Chronicles, 15

Chrysostom in Russ. literature, 11, 116

Church, its opposition to popular literature, 16, 19, 23, 24;
its contact with the West, 17;
its reform, 212 _seq._, 219;
union of Churches, 17, 135 _seq._

Church fathers, their influence on Russ. literature, 8;
and Iván the Terrible, 121

Church-Slavic, its relation to Bulgarian, 7;
and see _Bulgaria_

City songs, 24 _seq._

Collections, literary, 11 _seq._;
of Svyatosláv, 11

Comedy, 36, 211, 272 _seq._, 308, 311 _seq._, 342 _seq._, 370 _seq._,
397 _seq._

Constantinople, in pilgrimages, 14;
and see _Byzantium_

Cox, G., on Russ. literature, ix.

Coxe, W., account of Russ. literature, vii.

Curtin, J., on fairy tales, 189

Cyril of Túrov, his sermons, 11, 62 _seq._

Cyril and Methodius, preaching in Bulgarian, 6

Dal’s proverbs, 199

d’Alembert, 29, 272

Daniel the Abbot, his feeling of Russ. unity, 3;
his pilgrimage, 14;
extract, 56 _seq._

Daniel the Prisoner, 100 _seq._

Danílov, Kírsha, 163

Danílov, M. V., extract from his _Memoirs_, 269 _seq._

Dante, in Servian literature, 4;
his _Divine Comedy_, 13, 96

Dáshkov, Princess, 308;
biographical sketch and extract, 316 _seq._

_Demetrius the Impostor_, Sumarókov’s, translated into English, 255

Derzhávin, G. R., at Court, 31;
his lyrics, 34;
biographical sketch and extracts, 377 _seq._, _and see_ 33, 241,
272, 358 _seq._, 405

Destouches, 308

Diderot and Russ. educational system, 29;
_and see_ 272, 316

Dietrich, A., Russ. fairy tales, 189

Digenis Akritas, 14

Dmítriev, I. I., his odes, 33;
his lyrics, 34;
biographical sketch and extracts, 428 _seq._

Dole, N. H., his translations from the Russian, x., 50, 379

Dolgorúki, I. M., biographical sketch and extracts, 422 _seq._

Dolgorúki, Princess, biographical sketch and extract, 233 _seq._

_Domostróy_, 12, 126 _seq._, 219

“Double faith,” 16, 19

Drama, 35 _seq._, 150, 254 _seq._, 308 _seq._, 418;
and see _Comedy_

_Drone, The_, 327

Druzhína, 46 (note)

Dupuy, E., on Russ. literature, x.

Eastern Church separated from Rome, 6

Eastman, S. C., translator of Brandes, x.

“Ecstatic” poetry, 33

Edmands, J. L., translator of Vogüé, x.

Edwards, S., on Russ. literature, ix., 306

Elizabeth, Queen, appealed to by King Sigismund, 5

_Emerald, The_, 11, 100

Émin, F., 327

Encyclopedias on Russ. literature, xi.

English, interest in Russ. literature, vii. _seq._;
influence on Russ. literature, 30, 36, 291;
Masons in Russia, 32

Englishmen, in Moscow, 26;
speaking Russian, vii.;
reading Platón’s theology, 300

Ermák, 372 _seq._, 431 _seq._

Esop’s fables in Russian, 34

_Esprit des Lois_, in Russia, 29

Eusebius, 116

F., J. G. A., translation from Lomonósov, 242

Fables, 34 _seq._

Fairy tales, 25 _seq._, 189 _seq._

_Felítsa_, 3, 33, 241, 272, 358 _seq._

Feofán, biographical sketch and extracts, 211 _seq._;
_and see_ 12, 28, 219, 224, 233, 300

Folklore, 18 _seq._;
bridging chasm, 20;
connected with that of Europe and Asia, 21

Folksongs, ix., 177 _seq._

Folktales, ix.

Fon-Vízin, D. I., biographical sketch and extracts, 341 _seq._;
_and see_ 31, 36, 269

Foreign Quarterly Review on Russ. literature, viii.

Foreigners in Moscow, 26

Formalism of Russian life, 12

Franklin, 361

Fraser’s Magazine, Turner on Russ. literature, 224, 242, 272, 379, 429

_Free Russia_, translations from Russian, x.

French influence on Russ. literature, 29 _seq._, 34, 230

Gardiner, F. H., translation of Bazán, x.

Gaussen, W. F. A., on Russ. literature, x.

Gellert, in Russian, 34, 306

Geography in ancient Russ. literature, 189

German Suburb, 26

Gílferding, 163

Gillies, R. P., on Russ. literature, viii.

Gógol, 35, 36, 397

_Golden Beam, The_, 11

_Golden Chain, The_, 11

Grahame, F. R., ix., 242, 306, 398

Great-Russians of the South, 9, 10;
exterminated by Tartars, 23

Grech, on Russ. literature, viii.

Greek traditions in Byzantium, 8;
taught in Russia, 17;
treaties with the Greeks, 4

Gribóvski, A. M., biographical sketch and extract, 405 _seq._

Griboyédov, 36, 397

Grimm’s mythological theory, 20

Griswold, M. W., bibliography of Russ. literature, x.

Günther, 29

Gundulić, his epic, 4

Hakluyt Society, translation of Nikítin, 111

Haller, 378

Hamartolos, 15

Hansa, 21

Hapgood, Miss I. F., translator of epic songs, 163

Heard, J. A., 233

_Hell’s Post_, 327

Henningsen, C. F., on Russ. literature, ix.

Herzen, 272, 287

Historical songs, 23, 172

History in Russ. literature, 15, 36 _seq._, 219 _seq._

Hodgetts, E. M. S., translation of fairy tales, 189

Holy Land, visited by Russians, 8, 56 _seq._

_Holy Virgin’s Descent into Hell, The_, 96 _seq._

Homer, a Russian, 298

Horace, in Russ. literature, 34, 397

Humour, in translation, x.

Ígor, see _Word of Ígor’s Armament_

Ilarión, eulogy of Vladímir, 11, 48 _seq._

Ilyá of Múrom, 165 _seq._;
known to the West, 9, 24

_Index librorum prohibitorum_, 13

Instructions in literature, 12;
Catherine’s, 30;
Vladímir’s, 11, 50 _seq._;
Tatíshchev’s, 219

Ipáti manuscript, 71

Isidor, at Council of Florence, 15, 17

Istómin, Karión, 26

Iván the Terrible, 17, 23, 26, 115 _seq._, 121 _seq._, 126, 172
_seq._

Jacob, gospel of, 13

James, Richard, collector of songs, vii., 23, 130 _seq._

Johnson’s Cyclopedia, on Russ. literature, xi.

Journey to Europe in literature, 15

Kámenev, G. P., biographical sketch and extract, 411 _seq._

Kantemír, A., biographical sketch and extract, 223 _seq._;
_and see_ 26, 28, 35, 211

Kapníst, V. V., his lyrics, 34;
biographical sketch and extracts, 397 _seq._

Karamzín, 34, 36, 255, 395, 418, 428

Khémnitser, I. I., biographical sketch and extracts, 306 _seq._;
_and see_ 34

Kheráskov, M. M., biographical sketch and extract, 298 _seq._;
_and see_ 33

Khorovód, 178

Kíev, metropolis of Russia, 9;
its poetic tradition, 10;
has no bylínas, 22;
chronicle, 15, 71 _seq._, 80;
cycle, 24, 163;
its contact with Poland, 6, 12, 33;
clergy and scholasticism, 26;
intermediary of Western culture, 17

Kiryéevski, 163

Klopstock, 378

Knyazhnín, Y. B., biographical sketch and extracts, 308 _seq._;
_and see_ 30, 36, 316

Kolyádas, 177 _seq._

Kostróv, E. I., biographical sketch and extract, 358 _seq._;
_and see_ 31

Kotoshíkhin, G., biographical sketch and extracts, 136 _seq._;
_and see_ 18, 178

Kozítski, G., 326

Kozlóv, 233

Krehbiel, H. E., on popular songs, 178

Krizhánich, Y., biographical sketch and extracts, 134 _seq._;
_and see_ 15

Krylóv, 34, 306, 429;
translated, ix.

Kúrbski, A. M., biographical sketch and extracts, 115 _seq._;
_and see_ 15, 18

La Fontaine, in Russ. literature, 34, 306, 374

Lamentations, 178, 187

Language, under Peter I., 27

Latin, in the Western Church, 6 _seq._;
taught in Russia, 17;
translations from, 150

Latins, hatred of, 6, 17

Laurentian manuscript, 65

Legends, in ancient Russia, 8;
apocryphal, 12 _seq._;
profane, 14 _seq._

Lewis, W. D., his translations from the Russian, viii., 379, 392, 429

Liberation of the serfs, 361

Lineff, Mrs. E., translations of popular songs, 178

Literary coteries, 32

Literature, in Russia, of recent growth, 3 _seq._;
rarely produced outside the Church, 12;
in Slavic countries, 3 _seq._

Little-Russians, their characteristics, 9;
whence come, 10

Lomonósov, M. V., biographical sketch and extracts, 241 _seq._;
_and see_ 28, 29, 33, 150, 378, 429

Love songs, 178, 179 _seq._

Lowell lectures on Russ. literature, x.

Lucidarius in Russia, 8

Ludolf, author of first Russ. grammar, vii.

Luká Zhidyáta, biographical sketch and extract, 44 _seq._;
his style, 9

Lyrics, in Russ. literature, 34

Maksím the Greek, 116

Malalas, source of history, 15

Marlowe’s _Tamerlane_ in Russian, 26

Martinists, 32, 361

Martinof, J., translator of Tatíshchev, 219

Masons and Russ. literature, 32, 272, 327

Máykov, V. I., biographical sketch and extracts, 263 _seq._;
_and see_ 34, 374

Medvyédev, 18

Meshchérski, Prince, 375 _seq._

Metastasio imitated, 308

Milton’s _Paradise Lost_ translated, 291

Modern Language Association, on fairy tales, 189

Molière in Russia, 26

Montesquieu, 29, 30, 272

More, Sir Thomas, 287

Morfill, W. R., translations from the Russian, ix., x., 130, 172

Moscow, as a political centre, 3, 10;
chronicles, 15;
its foreign colony, 17;
influenced by the West, 17, 26, 33;
cycle of songs, 24;
_et passim_

Mozharóvski’s stories of the Fox, 26, 198 _seq._

Munro, H. H., translator of the _Word_, 81

Muravév, M. N., 395 _seq._

Músin-Púshkin, A. I., discoverer of the _Word_, 81

Mysteries and Moralities, 35

Mythological theory of folklore, 20

Naake, J. T., translations of fairy tales, 189

Nekrásov, 233

Neledínski-Melétski, Y. A., his lyrics, 34;
biographical sketch and extracts, 392 _seq._

Néstor, his style, 9;
his chronicle, 15, 41 _seq._, 50 _seq._, 65 _seq._, 71 _seq._;
its discovery, 81

New Testament apocrypha in Russ. literature, 13

Nibelungenlied, 80

Nicodemus, gospel of, 13

Nikítin, Afanási, his _Travel to India_, 15, 111 _seq._

Nikón’s corrections, 12

Norse, influence in ancient Russia, 4;
tradition in Kíev, 9;
acquaintance with Ilyá of Múrom, 21, 24;
laws, 45

Novels, 36

Nóvgorod, its relations with Germany, 21;
cycle of songs, 24, 163;
its laconic style, 9, 44 _seq._;
its chronicles, 15;
_Domostróy_, 126

Nóvikov, N. I., imprisoned, 30;
and Catherine, 31 _seq._;
and the Masons, 32;
his satires, 35;
his historical investigations, 36;
biographical sketch and extracts, 326 _seq._

Odes, 33;
and see _Ecstatic poetry_

Odoévski, 362

Ogarév, 362

Old Testament apocrypha in Russ. literature, 13

Olónetsk, bylínas, 10, 22

Opera, 370 _seq._

Ossian, in Russ. literature, 358, 418

Otto, F., see _Cox, G._

Ovid, in Russian, 27

Ovsén, 177

Oxford, publishing the first Russ. grammar, vii.

Ózerov, V. A., and the tragedy, 36;
biographical sketch and extract, 418 _seq._

_Painter, The_, 32, 327

_Palæa_, 11, 13

Palestine, legends brought from, 14;
and see _Holy Land_

Panin, I., on Russ. literature, x., 355

Panslavism, Krizhánich’s, 135

Paul, Emperor, 321, 328

People, meaning of this term, 18 _seq._

Periodicals, satirical, 326 _seq._

Peter the Great, ode on his birth, 150 _seq._;
and the Slavophiles, 4;
songs dealing with, 23;
and progress, 26 _seq._;
Shcherbátov’s censures of, 288 _seq._;
funeral sermon on, 214;
_and see_ 12, 16, 18, 19, 28, 32, 35, 211, 212, 324

Petrarch in Servian literature, 4

Petróv, V. P., biographical sketch and extract, 291;
_and see_ 31, 33

Philipps, J. T., translation of Feofán’s work, 211

Physiologus in Russia, 8

Pilgrimages, 14 _seq._, 56 _seq._

Pinkerton, R., translation of Platón, 300;
on Russ. proverbs, 200

Platón Levshín, biographical sketch and extract, 300 _seq._;
_and see_ 12, 328

Poetry, Russian, in English translation, viii., x.

Poland, its political status, 3;
its ancient literature, 4;
a barrier to Russia, 5;
and Kíev, 12, 17;
intermediary in folklore, 21;
its scholasticism and rhetoric in Russia, 26;
its influence on Russ. literature, 33

Political Economy, Pososhkóv’s, 205

Pollen, J., translations from the Russian, x., 379

Poroshín, S. A., biographical sketch and extract, 321 _seq._

Pososhkóv, I. T., biographical sketch and extracts, 205 _seq._;
his diction, vi., 28

Potánin’s theory, 21

Prokopóvich, see _Feofán_

Pronunciation of Russian, vi., vii.

Prose story in Russ. literature, 25 _seq._, 36

Proverbs, 199 _seq._

Pseudo-classic style, 29, 378

Pugachév’s rebellion, 30

_Purse, The_, 327

Púshkin, in translation, viii.;
reviewed, ix.;
_and see_ 34, 255, 379, 411

Pýpin’s works, vi.

Quarterly Review, popular songs, 178;
fairy tales, 189;
proverbs, 200

Racine, and Russ. literature, 36

Radíshchev, A. N., and English writers, 36;
biographical sketch and extract, 361 _seq._;
_and see_ 30, 32, 272, 327

Ragusa, its literature, 4

Ralston, W. R. S., studies in Russ. literature, ix.;
popular songs, 178;
fairy tales, 189

_Rambler, The_, 327

Reform, beginning of, in Russia, 17 _seq._

Religious lore, 11 _seq._

Robinson, Dr. Ed., see _Talvi_

Romanists, see _Latins_

Romantic Movement, 3, 25

Rosicrucians, 32

Rousseau, 272

Russia, rediscovered by the English, vii.;
its political greatness, 3;
menace to Europe, 5;
its aloofness, 5 _seq._;
its unprogressiveness, 6, 8, 20;
its history, by Shcherbátov, 287

Russian Code, 4, 45

Russian language, in America, v.;
supplanted by Bulgarian, 7;
its composition, 7;
perfected by Lomonósov, 241;
first grammar of, vii.

Russian literature, not all accessible to English readers, v.;
English works on, ix.

Rýbnikov, 163

Rylyéev, viii., 233, 362

S., J. T., translation of _Brief Theology_, 300

Sadkó the Merchant, in French, 21

_St. Petersburg Gazette_, 327

Satire, 35

Satirical journals, 31, 326 _seq._

Saunders, W. H., translation from the Russian, viii.

Sentimentalism, Karamzín, and, 36

Serapión, his style, 9, 11;
biographical sketch and extract, 104 _seq._

Sermons, in Russ. literature, 11;
_and see_ 44 _seq._, 62 _seq._, 104 _seq._, 300

Servia, its political status, 3;
its ancient literature, 4;
its legends, 14

Shaw, T. B., translations from the Russian, viii.

Shchedrín, 35

Shcherbátov, M. M., biographical sketch and extract, 287 _seq._;
_and see_ 33, 36, 327

Shibánov, 115

Shuválov, Lomonósov’s letters to, 241 _seq._

Sigismund’s appeal to Queen Elizabeth, 5

Simeón of Bulgaria, 11

Simeón Pólotski, biographical sketch and extracts, 149 _seq._;
_and see_ 18, 26, 34

Slavic, idea, 4;
languages in ninth century, 6;
language of religion, 6;
language, Krizhánich’s, 134;
nations, weakness of, 3;
scholarship in America, ix.;
sources of apocrypha, 13

Slavophiles, 4, 37, 327

Solomon, in Russ. literature, 13, 114

Sophia and the theatre, 26

_Spectator, The_, 31, 327

_Spiritual Testaments_, 12, 219

_Spiritual Reglement_, 211

Spring songs, 178

Stallybrass, J. K., translation of _Ode to Deity_, 379

Stanley, A. P., translation of Vladímir’s _Instruction_, 50

Stanley, Dr., on Platón, 300

Stásov’s theory, 21

Sterne in Russ. literature, 36, 361

Sumarókov, A. P., and the drama, 28;
his odes, 33;
his fables, 34;
and the theatre, 36;
biographical sketch and extracts, 254 _seq._;
_and see_ 306, 308, 326, 327, 378

Súzdal chronicle, 15

Svyatosláv’s Collection, 11, 12;
his glory sung, 23

Sylvester’s _Domostróy_, 12, 65, 115, 219

Sylvester, see _Néstor_

Talmud, legends, 12, 114

Talvi, on Slavic literature, ix.;
translations of historical songs, 172;
_and see_ 178

Tartars, not alone to be blamed for stagnation, 10;
exterminating the Great-Russians of the South, 10, 23;
in bylínas, 22;
in sermon, 104 _seq._;
in songs, 172

Tasso, 298

Tatíshchev, V. N., biographical sketch and extract, 218 _seq._;
_and see_ 15, 26, 36, 211

_Tatler, The_, 31, 327

_Testaments_, 50, 205;
and see _Spiritual Testaments_

Theatre, early, in Russia, 26;
founded, 255

Thomas, gospel of, 13

Tragedy, 35;
and see _Drama_

Translations, from the Russian, v.;
author’s, vi.

Transliterations from Russian, vi.

Tredyakóvski, V. K., biographical sketch and extract, 230 _seq._;
_and see_ 28, 33, 150, 254, 378

Trojan war, in legend, 14

Turgénev, 36

Turner, C. E., on Russ. literature, x., 224, 242, 272, 379

Unity of Russia, as an idea, 3

University press, 327

Vladímir, his baptism, 65 _seq._;
eulogy on, 48 _seq._;
cycle, 9, 22, 24, 163

Vladímir Monomákh’s _Instruction_, 11, 12, 50 _seq._, 219

Varyág, see _Norse_

Vergil, 298

Versailles manners in Russia, 28

Vogüé, E. M. de, on Russ. literature, x.

Volhynia chronicle, 15

Voltaire, 29, 30, 316

Voltairism, 30, 327

Voynich, E. L., translation of Russ. humour, x.

Wahl, O. W., on Russ. literature, ix.

Waliszewski, K., on Russ. literature, x.

Wedding songs, 178, 185 _seq._

Westminster Review, Russ. literary biography, viii.;
on Russ. literature, viii., x.

Wielhorsky, Count, translation of Nikítin, 111 _seq._

Wilson, C. T., translations from the Russian, x., 429

Wolkonsky, Prince, on Russ. literature, v., x.

_Word of Ígor’s Armament, The_, 80 _seq._;
prose version, 71 _seq._;
_and see_ vi., 3, 9, 16, 22, 106 _seq._, 152

Yarosláv’s Code, 4, 9, 45 _seq._

Yavórski, Stefán, 28

Yermák, given on p. 172 _seq._ by oversight for _Ermák_, _q. v._

Young’s _Night Thoughts_, 378

Zadónshchina, 16, 80, 106 _seq._

Zhukóvski, 25 _seq._

WORKS IN LITERATURE

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AMERICAN LITERATURE, 1607-1885.

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=II. From the Renaissance to the Close of the Reign of Louis XIV.=

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Transcriber’s Notes

Obvious errors in punctuation and inconsistencies in proper names have been silently corrected.

Page 17: “he rest of Europe” changed to “the rest of Europe”

Page 263: “Bogdanóvich’s _Pysche_” changed to “Bogdanóvich’s _Psyche_”

Page 313: “shine in the bark” changed to “shine in the dark”

Page 315: “mary him” changed to “marry him”

Page 321: “aphabetical order” changed to “alphabetical order”

Page 352: “more stupid that our” changed to “more stupid than our”

Page 418: “are overthown” changed to “are overthrown”

Page 438: “learny our parts” changed to “learn our parts”